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Allison Wiese at Seminal Projects

by Richard Gleaves




Allison Wiese, Woods (non-installation photo used in show announcement)


Conceptually, Wiese's wired networks of altered appropriated paintings are much richer than the work she's shown previously in San Diego. In particular, their use of archetypal semantic primitives — wiring, blinking red LEDs, traditional landscape paintings — goes a long way towards dispensing with the need for any supporting text (a tell-tale signature of weak conceptual work).

The LEDs multi-function gloriously: blinking red points of light are ubiquitous symbols of caution, most commonly signaling the threat of protection via car alarm, but also (thanks to Hollywood movie conventions) equally well-known for signaling the threat of imminent destruction via terrorist device.

These double readings interact with both the image and object properties of the appropriated landscape paintings, evoking with sheer mathematical elegance issues of art commoditization and avant-garde backlash, global urbanization and anti-globalization, society and environment, and various combinations thereof.

In short, the work is extremely strong, as are the shelves of small abstract mountain sculptures in the gallery's front room. But the show itself — and by "show" I mean not just the display of the objects but their categorization as collections of salable art — suffers from a serious flaw: certain key formal elements of the works as displayed turn out not to be intrinsic parts of the artwork, but rather extraneous elements intended to serve as display supports for the work.

Thus, the webs of power-cord wire linking the paintings together into networks — and whose curvy drawing-in-space quality creates a crucial formal/material counterpoint to the chunky rectangles of the picture frames — are in fact not part of the artwork, unless one happens to buy the entire set of paintings. Instead, each painting is offered for sale as an individual battery-powered object, sans wiring. This is akin to selling a Brancusi without its base: an act that certainly qualifies as avant-garde backlash (see above), but when applied to the very artwork evoking it, suggestive of an artistic intention somewhere between high irony and cynical marketing (with cluelessness as a lingering possibility). By logical extension, buyers should be entitled to purchase the appropriated landscape paintings stripped of their "extraneous" lighting and electronics.

This same category error is even more evident in the small mountain sculptures, which draw their formal strength not only from the seriality of their presentation, but more crucially from the use of dark rough wood to construct their shelving: a highly non-neutral design move which generates a crucial formal/material contrast with the smooth white styrene of the mountain forms. Buy one of these units off the shelf — which you can — place it on a white shelf, and the work will promptly disappear... or at least change so radically that each buyer should be entitled to a free unit-sized section of dark rough wood shelving to accompany their purchase. But the gallery price list gives no indication that such an option exists.

If this sounds like a critical stretch, consider some art-historical evidence in the form of Eva Hesse, whose spectral genius haunts the formal underpinnings of the work in question. The key formal driver of Hesse's landmark Metronomic Irregularity series — the perceptual contrast between rectangular mass and tangled line — is virtually identical to what is happening in Wiese's wired networks of paintings. And in Hesse's Addendum two of the key drivers — the perceptual contrast between the rounded forms and their rectangular support, and the seriality of circular forms across said rectangle — are again crucial to the display of Wiese's mountain sculptures (which up the ante by introducing a strong material contrast between serial forms and support).

In both cases, key formal elements of Hesse's work are being offered in Wiese's work as mere accidents of display. Houston, we have a problem.



Allison Wiese, installation at Seminal Projects




Eva Hesse, Metronomic Irregularity I



Allison Wiese, installation at Seminal Projects




Eva Hesse, Addendum

Comments

I enjoyed your comparison of Allison Wiese and Eva Hesse. It was a nice touch to include the images for those who are not familiar with their work.

However, whether you agree with it or not, 'how', 'when', and in what 'manner' a work of art is sold is the perogative of the art dealer, the artist, and/or the client, and should not have any bearing on its aethetic merit. If you, as an art critic, deem this to be of such important consequence than isn't only fair to also consider the payment terms of a potential sale, or, for that matter, the final price? How would these factors effect your judgement of the work? And what does any of it have to do with an art review?

In truth, the history of art is full of instances of artworks being broken up, devided, trimmed, sold, traded, and looted beyond their original form (Monet's Waterlilies being one of the best known examples). The fact that these works have retained their integrity, value, and significance over time is a testament to their greatness.

Incidentally, as stated on the price sheet, all of these works are available for purchase as installations in their present form ("Price upon request").

I'll let Allison respond to your other comments regarding the 'flaws' and 'extraneous elements' in the work, if she wishes.

I enjoyed your comparison of Allison Wiese and Eva Hesse.

Thanks.


It was a nice touch to include the images for those who are not familiar with their work.

I see them more as crucial visual components of a reasoned aesthetic argument.


However, whether you agree with it or not, 'how', 'when', and in what 'manner' a work of art is sold is the prerogative of the art dealer, the artist, and/or the client, and should not have any bearing on its aesthetic merit.

As a general statement of fact, I am in complete agreement: the retail industry has gone to great lengths to develop the art and science of marketing, whereby mundane items such as sponges are artfully imbued with various cognitive associations to convince buyers that said objects are not mundane.



However, my interest here is precisely how in this case the prerogative of the art dealer and/or artist bears on the aesthetic merit of the artwork being displayed.

As an endpoint consider the following thought experiment: if Quint were to present a show of Roman De Salvo sculptures every one of which five days after purchase magically turned into pumpkins, the resulting sequence of events would involve issues not only of aesthetics but also of ethics. Specifically, the ethics of client-unanticipated shifts in the aesthetic merit of an artwork in its transition from retail context to subsequent existence as an autonomous art object.

Obviously this is an endpoint on an issue subject to matters of degree, but degree matters.


If you, as an art critic, deem this to be of such important consequence then isn't it only fair to also consider the payment terms of a potential sale, or, for that matter, the final price? How would these factors effect your judgement of the work?

To clarify: I'm an artist and writer, not a critic (though I was falsely labelled as such in a recent OMA press release). As such I'm free to write on any issue, including ethics and aesthetics. And especially their intersection, which brings us back to the issue at hand.

Details relating to payment terms and final price would have no effect on the visual integrity of the artwork as displayed: the individual painting and mountain units could be given away for free at the end of the show, and the aesthetic issues of breaking up strong artwork would remain unchanged.


In truth, the history of art is full of instances of artworks being broken up, devided, trimmed, sold, traded, and looted beyond their original form (Monet's Waterlilies being one of the best known examples). The fact that these works have retained their integrity, value, and significance over time is a testament to their greatness.

A nice sentiment, but given that the original essay precisely identified how Wiese's displayed work depends on key formal elements of recognizably great artwork (Hesse's), and how the breakup of the displayed work into individual units subtracts those very elements, the burden is therefore on you to provide a reasoned counter-argument to the assertion that selling off the individual units of the installations effectively dismantles them as the powerful artworks they currently are.

And lest you feel singled out, note that the issue at hand (which for lack of a better term can be called the souvenir effect) can be found all over the art world in various degrees: shows and especially installations of artwork add perceived value to the individual units sold from the aggregate. The issue then divides into two sub-issues: 1) to what degree the individual units embody the whole they were originally embedded in; and 2) to what degree the individual units function aesthetically as stand-alone objects.

These sub-issues are amenable to aesthetic analysis, but at the same time every client in the art world deserves to be educated about the souvenir effect and its ethical and aesthetic implications, while every commentator (whether critic, journalist, or philosopher) ought to feel ethically obliged to address the souvenir effect in order to determine the degree to which specific shows and installations are offering pumpkins.


And what does any of it have to do with an art review?

See above, but if that doesn't resonate for you, here's the capsule version:

Go see the show, it's great if you like conceptual work. But don't count on ever seeing it again, 'cos it's being sold for parts.


Incidentally, as stated on the price sheet, all of these works are available for purchase as installations in their present form ("Price upon request").

I never said they weren't available this way, just that they were being offered, with stated prices, as parts.

I love good art, and live for looking at it. I know the economy's tanked, you've got bills to pay, and Wiese no doubt does too. I just hate to see strong work get sold for parts, and I've made my claim as to why they should be viewed that way.

Details relating to payment terms and final price would have no effect on the visual integrity of the artwork as displayed

But it might for a potential buyer. Combine the price point (within one's budget) with a certain perceived value of an object's worth can, I argue, influence the potential aesthetic interest the artwork holds or pretends to hold for the buyer and the price being asked for it.

Other factors that we know influence whether or not the wallet comes out are the reputation and/or the name recognition (historically or otherwise) of the artist or gallery, the artwork's perceived "greatness" by other "experts" and its visual integrity or likability. And sometimes, an exorbitant sticker price. In other words, I might like something a little more if it was only a few hundred dollars less. A "good deal" is always something that can be savored and enjoyed. A terrible meal can be forgotten if the waiter picks up the bar tab, etc. etc.

I think we are far from any of these factors influencing a buyer's decision in this show, but this isn't really the point. The point is that it comprimises the intrinsic value of an artwork, to piecemeal as it were - and this is the show's biggest flaw and perhaps the responsibility of both the gallery and artist - when it is obviously clear that the "intent" of the installation with its gestalt approach, is heavly dependent on the whole and not the individual parts. It successfully hides the "souvenir effect" you speak of Richard (akin to winning a teddy bear at the Ring Toss) by reducing the attention and importance given to any one piece. It is a gamble few artists can successfully pull off. But I guess it doesn't matter once the artwork is divided up, you can hold on to the memory but even this fades over time.

I believe that had the pieces been shown seperately as sellable units, it would have pushed them into the realm of pastische, anecdotal - a gimmick exploited over and over again by the artist. Now you can believe this is just nitpicking on my part, and we haven't even talked about the use of Wood's reproductions as mere fodder for some conceptual fantasy, but nonetheless, there is one saving grace to this whole exposition and the only thing that continually saves this type of work from the abyss.

The gallery. That sacred white washed space embued with the anointing powers to make ART out of art and an artist out of all who enter its hallowed circle. A harbinger if there ever was one view the power it has to continually provide context and sometimes content to an artist's work. One Wiese is fully aware of.