Earlier this week, I finally had the opportunity to see the new exhibitions at the Walker Art Center. I have some very mixed feelings about the WAC– I feel that the museum is very contemporary, but very traditional. I often find myself frustrated with that art that is shown there; work that has a monetary value, and often only has a monetary value because of the name of the artist who created it. This is an obsolete museum setting, in my opinion.
However, I often find myself struck by one thing I see every trip I take there. The last time I visited, I had an epiphany about the state of the contemporary museum while watching an Eiko and Koma installation/performance. In my most recent venture, I was particularly excited to see the Midnight Party show, but was disappointed to find that the entire exhibition feels like famous artist's B-Sides from the Walker's own collections. Instead, I found myself taken with the Exposed show; an exploration of voyeurism through the eyes of artists, regulated surveillance, and actual voyeurs themselves.
This was probably the longest a show has ever kept me captivated at the Walker Art Center. In one small exhibition space, I was entranced for almost 2 hours. What I realized as I walked through the gallery, however, is that I was almost bored by the artistic renditions of voyeurism. More fascinating to me were the authentic photographs, the things that were never intended as art in the first place, but rather a personal documentation of something or someone.
What does it mean when the most exciting thing in an art museum is non-art? Does the placement of a personal photograph, taken by someone who is no longer living who never intended for their possession to be displayed, turn that photograph into fine art? Or is it all just spectacle, a feeling of intrigue that comes from the shock of discovering such a photograph exists? What does it mean for a contemporary artist to now be in competition with non-artists?
At the same time, there are great things to be said about some brilliant (intended) fine art pieces on display. Kohei Yoshiyuki's park project (pictured above) documents couples making love in Japanese parks as well as the voyeurs they attract. Yoko Ono's film, Rape, also pictured, involves a camera crew following a random victim, in this case a Hungarian model who doesn't speak English, to the point of actually cornering her in her own home.
Such explorations on the theme of Voyeurism are, simply put, smart. This was the kind of work from fine artists that impressed me the most. Nothing can compare, however, to the purest representation of the Voyeur– the authentic voyeuristic photos themselves. Duchamp first showed us this idea in his ready-mades, and artists since Allan Kaprow have understood the value of complete authenticity, of art as life and life as art, of the thing itself versus a representation of the thing, and so on. In these situations, however, there was an artist present to put his or her name on the piece. The elevation from photograph-taken-in-the-bushes to fine art is now in the hands of the curator, not the artist.
This marks a change, a huge potential in the art world. A photographic image taken purely for self-amusement is not contrived. No one is attempting to assert his or herself as an artist. This is life. This is the core of authenticity, which is a beautiful thought– but this can also be terrifying for anyone trying to make a living in art.
