Wednesday, February 18, 1998
‘Out of Actions’ sets out to provoke reactions
ART: Modern representations reject aesthetically pleasing
exterior, address deeper issues
By Vanessa VanderZanden
Daily Bruin Staff
Sometimes modern art seems transcendental. Sometimes, it appears
more real than actual life. Sometimes, it’s just weird.
Take the exhibit currently showing at The Geffen Contemporary at
the Museum of Contemporary Art in downtown Los Angeles until May
10. Titled "Out of Actions: Between Performance and the Object,
1949-1979," the exhibit revolves around process-centered art. That
is, art which remains more concerned with how it found creation
than its actual form.
A perfectly grotesque example of this concept exists in Paul
McCarthy’s 1974 piece, "Meatcake." This inclusion documents a
performance he once gave, with eight pages of text outlining his
actions and three photographs visually depicting them. The result
is more than a little disturbing, yet infinitely intriguing.
He notes in the documents, "- threw up / – make myself white
with maynase / in the corner threw up / – I will be inbarest / –
tape my leg to my penis," and later, "shoving food in my crotch / –
bending over and doing it so my ass is facing them / – pants are
filled with food."
The accompanying pictures reveal McCarthy wearing a sea
captain’s cap and suit with his pants pulled down and his underwear
overflowing with hamburger meat and catsup. A siphon runs from his
mouth to his genitals, while food and vomit coat his face and soil
his clothing. Meanwhile, the audience looks on in abhorrence.
Apparently, this representation provides a piercing social
commentary on the proliferation of or lack of self-degradation in
the world at large. Regardless, it plays the same role as road kill
– you hate to look but can’t take your eyes away.
In many ways, Robert Delford Brown and Rhett Delford Brown echo
McCarthy’s controversial subject matter in their 1964 piece, "The
Meat Show." This work includes the life-size models of two
slaughtered sheep and one pig hanging by ropes from their legs
before a blood-stained parachute. The informative document to the
left details how the pair of artists originally hung oodles of
butchered beasts in a walk-in freezer in Greenwich Village and sold
tickets to the event for 75 cents.
While this work reflects the atrocities apparent in man’s lust
to eat meat, it crosses the border between art and life. By taking
a tour of a common slaughterhouse freezer, the artists force us to
question the humanity of our own standard feeding practices. This
re-evaluation of everyday reality shines through in many of the
show’s works.
For example, Ben Vautier’s 1962 addition "Ben’s Window,"
reconstructs the window front which Vautier inhabited when his
piece originally appeared in a Minneapolis art center. The work
reveals a variety of bedroom items including a bed, bureau and
bedside lamp, with white-out labeling and comments on the
collection of objects. For instance, "dirty water" dons the side of
an old fish tank, "rotting meat with flies" decorates the side of a
dingy bake pan, and "don’t look at me" glares from the interior
glass of a photo frame.
Consequently, Vautier provides a voice for inanimate objects and
redesigns the silent world which we take for granted. Almost as an
unintentional addition to this work, a regularly clanging drone
fills the entire museum space from some eerie, unidentifiable
piece. In this way, even the silence has a voice.
Likewise, Robert Morris suggests that there exists a space
surrounding every individual being that, though invisible, takes a
very solid form. Made in 1961, he calls his work "Untitled
(Standing Box)."
It’s a tall, unpainted wooden box. It’s the height of the
artist. When he stands in it, as he does in the picture next to the
box, he is said to be "performing the box."
Continuing in this simplistic vein, one of John Cage’s musical
scores takes up several square feet of one of the museum walls. His
piece details when the performer should "Pour water from receptacle
to another" and play the "duck whistle in bowl of water (as long as
breath holds – but not past)." With such careful instructions, it
would seem difficult to mess up the piece.
Saburo Murakami’s piece "Work," takes a slightly more confusing
form. While the piece seems to only be made up of red and black
peeling paint on a slab of wood, the "viewer is invited to interact
with this work by listening to the interior clock that rings with
different bells at unpredictable moments." Are the bells
conceptual, only to be heard after hours of morphing with the
visual intricacies of the textured piece?
Equally bizarre is Nam June Paik’s "Integral Piano," which
consists of three upright pianos. Though all appear somewhat
haggard with age, the central instrument has wires spilling out of
it as well as peculiar items glued to it. Examples include barbed
wire, a bra, an alarm clock, a telephone, toy cars and egg shells.
Beautiful is not the word to describe it, though it seems dubious
that Paik’s intentions remain grounded in receiving such common
praise.
But who knows what reaction he expected? In fact, most of the
works on display seem best experienced in live form, though the
existing collection still manages to catch the eye. The entire
display, despite its ability to express higher levels of
consciousness, mostly just intrigues viewers with the very avant
garde nature of its content.
So maybe most people won’t really "get it." They’ll probably
walk around, gawking at the twisted pieces, utterly amused and more
than a little baffled. But is that so terrible?
ART: "Out of Actions: Between Performance and the Object,
1949-1979" shows through May 10 at the Geffen Contemporary at the
Museum of Contemporary Art located at 152 North Central Ave.
Admission is $6 and $4 for seniors and students with ID. For more
information, call (213) 621-2766.
The Museum of Contemporary Art
The Museum of Contemporary Art’s "Out of Action: Between
Performance and Object," is on display until May 10.