Baby and I went to the Whitney biennial preview show a couple of days ago. In summary: imagine every two years I compiled a massive pile of dogshit … imagine I invited a group of people to view this pile of dogshit … imagine 98% of the people just saw a pile of dogshit but were too shy to acknowledge it … imagine 2% were in a deeply introspective mood and took the time looking at dogshit to evaluate existence and accomplished something from it.
Personally, all I remember is a pile of dogshit, apart from one piece that maybe I will never forget by Dawn Clements. There were one or two other okay pieces, but I can’t remember them and I won’t expend the energy to drag them out of the memory I have of that miserable experience I had walking around the show.
In summary, it was like wandering through a used CD store … 50 minutes of complete rubbish … with one moment of extreme joy … which encourages you to search through the rest of the trash on offer, only to leave in utter disappointment, but with one gem in your pocket, which made the trip worthwhile.
I don’t blame the second-hand CD stores, they’re just trying to make a buck, but you’d think the Whitney could at least put a little effort into it.
Personally, all I remember is a pile of dogshit, apart from one piece that maybe I will never forget by Dawn Clements. There were one or two other okay pieces, but I can’t remember them and I won’t expend the energy to drag them out of the memory I have of that miserable experience I had walking around the show.
In summary, it was like wandering through a used CD store … 50 minutes of complete rubbish … with one moment of extreme joy … which encourages you to search through the rest of the trash on offer, only to leave in utter disappointment, but with one gem in your pocket, which made the trip worthwhile.
I don’t blame the second-hand CD stores, they’re just trying to make a buck, but you’d think the Whitney could at least put a little effort into it.
