12.12.2010: NO SHIRT, NO SHOES REQUIRED AT THE GEFFEN CONTEMPORARY

It’s 80 degrees in LA right now. You could go to the beach to celebrate this, but then you’d probably find yourself in a crazy amount of IT’S 80 DEGRESS IN DECEMBER OMG traffic. If you’re not lucky enough to have a pool at home (or if you are, because I’m pretty sure yours doesn’t have a sick light show), may I suggest a dip in Hélio Oiticica and Neville D’Almeida’s “psychedelic swimming pool,” officially titled Cosmococa–Programa in Progress, CC4 Nocagions, currently up at The Geffen Contemporary. ”Psychedelic swimming pool?” you may ask. “In a museum?” Well, the MOCA has put together "Suprasensorial: Experiments in Light, Color, and Space," the first major museum show to “situate pioneering Latin American artists among the international canon of those working with light and space” by recreating large installations by the likes of Carlos Cruz Diez, Lucio Fontana, Julio Le Parc, Hélio Oiticica and Neville D’Almeida, and Jesús Rafael Soto. While I certainly have reservations about a show that places Latin American artists within a larger contemporary art context by showing them with…other Latin American artists exclusively, this is definitely a rare chance to see some major, influential works. The word suprasenorial was first used by Oiticica to describe the all-consuming nature of his installations. The use of the word “installations” here is actually sort of questionable; really, what these artists do is use light and color to create environments that make the audience, by walking through them, as integral a part of the work as what was made by the artist. I’d say it’s safe to assume that you don’t become part of a work without having a pretty epic experience in it, and really, if you’ve seen or are familiar with light works by non-Latin-North American and European artists, this show will blow your senses out of the water. I guess literally? "Suprasensorial: Experiments in Light, Color, and Space" is up at the Geffen Contemporary until February 27, 2011.

Article originally published on the TENOVERSIX blog.

03.05.2009: DAN GRAHAM: BEYOND

"Dan Graham: Beyond" at MOCA Grand Avenue begins with a quote from the artist: “I love magazines, because they are like pop songs, easily disposable, dealing with momentary pleasures.” After reading this, one ventures into a room containing two of his fully constructed two-way mirrored pieces. No matter one’s age, the thrill of being able to see people who can’t see you is indeed quite the momentary pleasure. In the same vein, his use of mirrored glass in Girl’s Make-Up Room, where one is able to look.. inside.. a girl’s.. make-up room.. turns playful into downright creepy, but I digress.

The next room contains samples of his magazine work, which oddly enough seem to be the only pieces with any sense of permanence; they are on paper, preserved in frames and glass cases. Other works follow as such: the performance documentation is pretty cool, the most recent photographs aren’t that great, and the small, decidedly corporate-feeling architectural models date work that, when actually experienced, feels consistently contemporary. (“Sonic Youth” “tagged” on the model of Skateboard Pavillion? Really, Dan Graham?)

The real show stopper is the installation of Public Space/Two Audiences, at least it would have been had MOCA followed directions. Viewers step into one of two rooms, divided by glass, one of which has a mirrored wall. They are supposed to stay in there, doors closed, for 10 minutes, but the first time I went, no time limit was enforced and the second time, the doors were left wide open. The inability to hear what is going on in the other room, despite having a perfectly clear view, causes a lot of awkward smiles, staring contests, and a sense of forced comradery with complete strangers, putting into practice Graham’s question of public versus private space, being watched versus watching.

A video Graham made of Minor Threat in ’83 and a large projection of Rock My Religion (1965-1990) end the show in an attempt to show the artist’s connection to a fuck you, in-your-face youth culture. I felt like I walked out with blue balls.

Article originally published on Anthem Online.