Into the Big, Blue Yonder

NOVEMBER 2000

The Taipei Biennial 2000, held at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum, explores the limits of art

Early in the last century, French artist Marcel Duchamp placed a ceramic urinal in an art gallery and dared to call it art. The public was, naturally enough, outraged. But the idea that anything could be art took hold, thus exploding its definition. The debris has been landing ever since and continues to fall in an ever-widening radius.

Likewise, in the real world, another "big bang" has been taking place. Exponential advances in technology have led to the definition of almost everything having to be reconsidered. Cultures are blending, information and products quickly come and go - even the humble carrot's identity is threatened by genetic modification.

It is in this state of flux that contemporary artists work. After Duchamp and his contemporaries planted the seeds of contemporary art, its practitioners have been employing ever more novel concepts and media. The pedestal and picture frame is being left further and further behind in their wake. But is the public being left behind as well?

Contemporary art exhibitions have failed to spark the public imagination in the same way that blockbuster shows of the classics do. Of course, the new and unusual will never hold the same appeal, but contemporary art does have an image problem. Its attempt to get attention by "the shock of the new" has been so overdone that the public has simply turned off. Other works are deemed amateurish or just plain incomprehensible. Indeed, many would argue that contemporary art is in a state of crisis, emaciated by a poverty of ideas and technique, estranged from its audience.

Given this scenario, any curator of a contemporary art show these days has their work cut out for them. They have to select works that are at once accessible yet novel and profound. In this regard the curators of the Taipei Biennial, Jerome Sans and Manray Hsu have done an admirable job in panning the global art scene and separating the gold from the dross.

So, what's on show and who is showing it? First, let it be said that the urinals have been left in the men's room. But be warned, none of the 31 works on display employ a pedestal or picture frame. Rather, they are mostly installations of objects (often interactive) or audio/visual presentations secreted away in darkened chambers. The artists hail from 20 different countries but, in looking at the works, one would be hard pressed to pick their nationality. They are globe-roaming nomads, free traders of the digital age, sourcing their work from a worldwide marketplace of ideas. Here is a series of short takes on some of the exhibits.

Untitled

Michael Ming-hong Lin

Entering the cavernous foyer of the Taipei Fine Arts Museum, one is immediately confronted by a massive welcome mat. Please step on the artwork! - a colorful expanse of painted floor rendered with soft, homey floral shapes that seem styled in a naive pop art. This must be about as far as you can get from high art. It's low art, so low in fact that it is under foot. In a further act of humility, the artist invites gallery patrons to lounge upon his work using the coordinated floor cushions provided. But be quick: like a Tibetan Mandala, it will disappear from existence at the end of the show.

Over The Rainbow

Jun'ya Yamaide

Suspended overhead is a flock of large blue balloons dangling a multitude of Chinese characters. They belong to dozens of local passer-bys the artist garnered into assisting with the project. The participants used a calligraphy brush to paint a character from their name and then launched the balloon to symbolically release the burden that one's name imposes. (In Chinese culture, the baby's name is carefully chosen, as it is believed the name will reflect the child's future).

Everything NT$20

Surasi Kusolwong

Further inside, the visitor comes across what appears to be a Thai marketplace selling cheap, bright, plastic household items. And that is exactly what it is. Step right up folks, everything's on sale at only NT$20 a pop. Brushes, bowls, baskets, toys, clothes pegs, etc. are all in plentiful supply. But, what's this doing in an art gallery? The only thing making it art is its placement here and not on a Bangkok street. Perhaps the artist is attempting to convey the reality of Thailand's lower-class consumer lifestyle in the most direct way possible. The audience has a real shopping experience and even gets to take away a piece of the artwork and have it infiltrate their lives. They are left to ponder "is this an artwork or just a cheap piece of plastic junk?" Art has become reality and reality has become art, so where are we now? In any case, it would appear that the spirit of Monsieur Duchamp is alive and well.

One Minute Sculpture

Erwin Wurm

Upstairs, one arrives at an unavoidable white passageway. The floor is littered with clusters of a dozen or so everyday objects, such as tennis balls or bananas. Adjacent, the artist has scribbled in marker pen an instructional drawing, so that the visitor can combine their bodies with the objects in novel ways. These ephemeral, DIY sculptures result in a madhouse of comical poses created by the audience, or at least by those with a big enough exhibitionist streak.

Lying Around Lazy...

Tobias Rehberger

Looking at these works is like checking out the latest range of designer furniture - only there seems to be some extra ingredient ghosting just above the surface. Some hidden message is framed by the stylish shape and color and orchestrated by the ambient music playing in the background. We often think of furniture as inanimate and obediently waiting to serve our backsides. But in this case one hesitates to sit, as the pieces seem already occupied by the thoughts of an invisible "couch potato." We try to imagine the spirit of this solitary user and follow them into their realms of reflection.

In Search of Gregory Peck

Jonathan Monk

In a darkened room at the end of a corridor is what appears to be a family slide show. The images are from the 60's or 70's, outdated and faded by the ravages of time and fashion. It is as though a stranger has invited you into his or her living room and is sharing an album of travels and family gatherings. One basks in a comforting sense of intimacy and trust as this random sequence of memories is shared. And yet, who are these people? There is no commentary. We are left like aliens poring over the memories of a person or persons unknown. We examine the images, wondering about the personality of this or that person, the ties that bind them, the circumstances that led to the framing of the shot, the identity of the photographer. Like any great portraiture, these images document how life was in a now untouchable past.

Ultraman

Hung Tunglu

Mounted on light boxes, this collection of fantastic collages layer the younger generation's cartoon heroes upon classical Chinese scenes. Thrown into the mix for good measure is some African wildlife and cosmological elements. Rendered in vivid day-glo colors upon lenticular material, they appear to move as the viewer moves, giving a remarkable impression of animation. Here in a virtual world - The past meets the future and somehow it seems to all make sense.

No Casting

Loris Cecchini

A bicycle and a park bench are in the process of a meltdown, their gray rubbery forms being bombarded by some kind of apocalypse or over-powering distortion of reality. Salvador Dali, are you responsible for this? Are you not satisfied with melting clock faces?

Adjacent are two photographs that appear like something out of a haunted version of "Alice in Wonderland." Placed in a scale model world are full-sized humans, pursuing what seems a pointless existence in an environment from which they are hopelessly alienated. They appear doomed by an unsustainable world, imprisoned by irreconcilable dualities of scale.

Backyard

Liza Lou

A colorful Milky Way of sequins and beads has coagulated in the form of a shimmering American backyard. The detail is mind boggling, right down to the quarter of a million blades of grass. Such is the magnitude of the work that it would have taken the artist 45 years to complete, save for the assistance of an army of volunteers. It is perhaps ironic that "the backyard" - that temple of private indulgence - was created so selflessly by a collective community. It is a portrait of the age of mass production and consumerism, rendered in the most labor-intensive way possible. That can only be a labor of love. That can only be art.

The works of the Taipei Biennial 2000 raise the roof with their maturity and intelligence. They endeavor to engage an audience and speak of all the important issues of the day: violence, the environment, alienation, sexuality, globalization, poverty, and consumerism. Like the blue balloons in the foyer, the exhibits lift our gaze into places it wouldn't normally venture. We are invited into new ways of seeing and experiencing art. These expressions will touch us in many ways. We may even see a balloon or two disappear into the big blue yonder and discover that indeed "the sky is the limit" Bon Voyage.

JaRen -- Article Archive