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Art as Gimmick: The Whitney Biennial
| Article
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15916 |
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Section : |
THE ARTS
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| Issue
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7 / 1989 |
2,208 Words |
| Author
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James Gardner
James Gardner writes on art, literature and film for a variety
of publications. |
The 1989 Whitney Biennial is not the worst such exhibition in recent memory. That honor goes to the Whitney Biennial of 1985, which was so utterly awful that the present exhibition can only be seen as an improvement, however marginally.
The Whitney's biennial exhibitions are the closest we have to an official Salon on the American art scene. In the cramped spaces on the second and fourth floors of the Marcel Breuer structure on Madison Avenue, the curators have tried to show what they believe to be the best and most representative art created by Americans over the past two years.
Nobody actually likes the Whitney Biennials, although, paradoxically, everyone does enjoy them. People dislike them because their venue confers a quasi-official status to the art exhibited, and many in the art world are congenitally allergic to anything smacking of officialdom. In addition, everyone can think of artists whose exclusion seems as pointless and unfair as is the inclusion of those few who have passed muster with the curators.
These exhibitions are popular precisely because so much prestige surrounds them. No one knows what will go on exhibit until the doors are opened to the expectant public, and the works themselves are often created in situ just days before the opening, thus lending a sense of urgency and drama to the whole affair. Until the seventies, these exhibitions were an annual event; it might not be a bad thing to revive that periodicity.
In the aftermath of the 1985 exhibition, critics, including the present writer, have become more indulgent
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