MOCA Douglas Gordon’s "Self Portrait as
Kurt Cobain, as Andy Warhol, as Myra Hindley, as Marilyn
Monroe"
“Douglas Gordon” Museum of Contemporary Art
Through Jan. 20
Walking through the exhibit of Scottish artist Douglas
Gordon’s work at MOCA, the viewer is constantly confronted
with the dualities of human nature. In his exploration of the good
and bad, the light and dark, Gordon has created a fascinating
collection, primarily consisting of photographs and video
installations. Gordon’s most effective work, “Through a
looking glass,” pits two projections of Robert DeNiro’s
famous “You talkin’ to me?” speech, from
“Taxi Driver,” against one another. The projectors
screen the same scene at offset times, so DeNiro battles himself as
the viewer stands in the middle. “Monster,” a black and
white photograph, provides an interesting look at two sides of the
same person. It shows two shots of Gordon ““ in the first of
which he looks normal, while in the second his face has been taped
to look contorted. One of the most amusing pieces is another
picture of Gordon. “Self portrait as Kurt Cobain, as Andy
Warhol, as Myra Hindley, as Marilyn Monroe” is so small that
viewers might miss it, but Gordon’s work definitely proves
it’s worth when one leans close enough to get a good look.
The picture is of Gordon wearing a blond wig ““ which
constitutes his entire costume for his transformation into four
other people. As for the layout of the exhibit, the high ceilings
and open areas of the Geffen building of MOCA are well-adapted to
the screening rooms, maze-like hallways and large exhibition rooms
that house Gordon’s work. The environment is crucial to the
show, especially for installations like “30 Seconds
Text,” which relies on the contrast of a pitch black room to
the half-minute of light that makes the text on the wall visible.
The exhibit, the first of Gordon’s work in the United States,
is well put together as well as thought-provoking.
Mary Williams
 Paul Kopeikan Gallery The exhibit "Rwanda: No Single
Truth" displays portraits of regular people.
“Rwanda: No Single Truth” Paul Kopeikan
Gallery Through Nov. 24
Don’t expect Robert Lyon’s exhibit “Rwanda: No
Single Truth” at the Paul Kopeikan Gallery to contain
visually complex photography ““ the pictures on the wall are
simple portraits of ordinary people. But that’s exactly why
they’re so powerful. Explaining human nature ““ the part
of it that allows us to justify genocide, specifically ““ is a
difficult task. But to Lyons, it comes down to our inability to see
ourselves eye to eye and realize our common humanity, the very
reason Lyons uses mostly portraits to convey his point. Lyons
challenges the viewer to make this eye contact through portraits of
people belonging to both sides of the Rwandan conflict. Though the
common practice during the 1994 genocide was to distinguish Hutus
and Tutsis ““ Rwanda’s two warring ethnicities ““
by physical stature, Lyons juxtaposes the faces of both victim and
agitator, asking his audience to tell the difference. But there is
no difference. The photographs staring at the observer from the
wall have a rhetorical effect. The subjects in the photograph are
not engaged in any activity because they don’t need to be:
their physical mutilation, their expressions of helplessness, and
their clasping their hands together as if begging for pity, tell
the story. Adding to the somber emotions Lyons elicits from the
observer is the fact the photographs are in black and white,
highlighting the ambiguity and confusion of human-initiated
suffering. The strongest photograph in the exhibit was that of a
human skull decaying on the ground. Lyons doesn’t believe
ethnicity should measure the value of a person. But it is ethnicity
that caused the death of the person to whom the skull belongs
““ it becomes indiscernible only after the person’s
death, when it’s no longer worth it. The exhibit’s only
limitation is its small amount of items on display ““ the
viewer exits the gallery feeling a need for more answers. But like
the genocide itself, there are no real answers. The viewers must
leave the gallery with the comfort of having made that crucial eye
contact Lyons asks them to ““ extending that eye contact to
everyone else they interact with during their daily lives.
Cuauhtemoc Ortega