Michael Stickrod "Vacation Money,Saundra Stickrod," (video still) 2003
2008 Altoids Award
The New Museum
June 25 – Oct. 12
The U.K.-based mint manufacturer Altoids has helped keep things fresh at the New Museum for ten years now, donating the more than 150 works in its “Curiously Strong” collection. This year they’re adding a twist by funding a new art prize which distinguishes itself as being the first award for emerging artists that's chosen by other artists.
The museum is now featuring a small and oddly flat exhibition of works by the four inaugural winners: Ei Arakawa, Lauren Kelley, Michael Patterson-Carver and Michael Stickrod.
Nominations were made by a team of ten younger artists (a few of whom, like Trisha Donnelly and Harrell Fletcher, are in the “Curiously Strong” collection). Final selection was decided on by a trio of influential art-world heavy-hitters — Cindy Sherman, Paul McCarthy and Rirkrit Tiravanija, each known for their singular style — respectively, dramatized photographic self-portraits; messy and disturbing performance, sculpture and video; and sculptures and performances that engage the audience in social activities like eating.
While none of the jury's picks, or at least those works displayed, are particularly enthralling, it's still interesting to look for aspects of the jurors’ art reflected in their choices.
As it happens, the only obvious example is the strangely self-defeating work of Ei Arakawa. Before entering the first-floor exhibition space, you come upon construction paper haphazardly taped to the glass wall. For a moment you wonder, is the exhibition still under construction? Inside amidst more paper on the floor is an array of box fans blowing sections of translucent fabric that hang from two wardrobe racks. A hand-written sign encourages you touch and feel the work. A second sign lists a schedule of rehearsals and performances and a list of collaborators that includes Sonic Youth’s Kim Gordon. From what I've read, Arakawa's performances are really more like non-performances where you don't know when it's started or ended. This doesn't make me feel it's necessary to show up.
Lauren Kelly’s clever stop-motion animations use African-American Barbie dolls (or similar) to fashion short scenarios about the lives of young women. Simultaneously sad and funny, they evoke human vulnerabilities while playing with stereotypes: a shy librarian has her heart broken by a smooth-talking player; an office worker learns she is pregnant and gets an abortion; a chicken-shack worker is sexually harassed; a bride has trouble fitting into her wedding dress.
Michael Patterson-Carver, an art-world outsider from Seattle, makes politicized drawings using ink and pencil on paper. In a two-dimensional childlike style, he depicts groupings of protesters, both historical and contemporary — everything from a Civil Rights march to a Prohibition demo to a PETA protest to a immigrant rights gathering. One non-protest drawing entitled “Guernica Incident at the U.N.” dramatizes the episode in which Picasso’s antiwar painting was veiled during a speech by Colin Powell at the outset of the Iraq War.
Michael Stickrod contributes a series of documentary-style video pieces on two flat-screen monitors — each devoted to a parent. The artist’s father relates his experiences in Vietnam killing off whole villages, and his years working at a sewage-treatment plant. The artist’s mother shares her health problems and her oil-painting hobby (maybe the best part of the whole exhibition are the images of her eye-popping self-portraits, idealized as a kind of Elizabeth Taylor in clown makeup). Stickrod’s videos share subject matter and home-made quality reminiscent of “Tarnation,” the award-winning documentary about living with a schizophrenic mother.
One complaint is the competing volumes of the video pieces. Kelly’s comes with headphones; so should Stickrod’s.
It’s possible to read-in the influence of the jury to a certain extent. The messier, outsider-y moments remind us of McCarthy, and the social-engagement of Tiravanija, and the play with stereotypes of Cindy Sherman. But more evident is their common mood, uncertain and confused — a push-pull between human pathos and irony.
