Is an artist's persona as crucial as her creations? In a recent critique titled "Actions Speak Louder than Words: Louise Bourgeois at the Jewish Museum," author Jackson Arm contends that curators should maintain greater objectivity in exhibition curation. Arm commences by highlighting the clichéd parallels drawn between psychoanalysis and the exhibited works in "Louise Bourgeois: Freud's Daughter," curated by archivist Philip Larratt-Smith. Expressing skepticism toward the connection established between Bourgeois' artwork and her showcased journal entries, Arm dismisses them as a stereotypical Freudian analysis. Furthermore, Arm asserts the curator's failure to logically correlate the writings with the exhibited artwork. In his analysis, Arm advocates for a more open-ended approach that allows viewers to engage directly with the artwork rather than being confined to a predetermined curatorial narrative. Ultimately, the review underscores the pitfalls of interpreting artwork solely through the lens of the artist's biography.
In an era where identity holds paramount importance, I ponder the delineation between an artist's persona and the intrinsic value of their creations. Arm's assertion resonates—exhibition themes often orbit the artist's personality rather than the art itself. Diane Arbus, Matthew Barney, Gino De Dominicis, Ellen Gallagher, Eva Hesse, and Bruce Nauman spring to mind as artists emblematic of identity-centric art. Nevertheless, their oeuvres transcend mere identity. Each artwork is meticulously crafted, rich in metaphorical layers, inviting myriad interpretations. While narratives undoubtedly foster connection, shouldn't the artwork articulate its own tale? When I engage with art, I endeavor to perceive it as distinct from the artist, even when aware of its genesis. Indeed, exemplary work possesses an innate ability to communicate. For me, the artist's identity amalgamates her inherent lineage and the commemoration of her legacy. It encompasses both our intrinsic corporeal existence and our communal affiliations.
For those uninitiated in curatorial practices, it essentially entails presenting artwork under a cohesive theme. Just as an artist employs principles of composition on canvas, a curator conceptualizes a framework to interpret an artist's body of work. Exploring art parallels getting acquainted with an individual—each artwork communicates through its unique visual language. Carter Ratcliff delves into art's purpose in his insightful article "What is Art And Why Even Ask?" published in the Brooklyn Rail. Ratcliff posits that art should provoke contemplation rather than mere design. This notion underscores the substantial role of curation as a conceptual framework for presenting art.
Indeed, while exhibitions ideally center on the artwork, this doesn't preclude art from exploring diverse subjects. I recall visiting an expansive exhibition on anesthesia, aptly titled as such. Spanning three museum floors, it featured a spectrum of artworks—from contemporary pieces like Damian Hirst's pill sculptures to historical surgical implements and poignant photographs documenting individuals undergoing painful surgeries. Experiencing this theme expressed through various mediums and historical contexts was truly captivating. Surprisingly, the medicinal focus didn't diminish the potency of the individual artworks.
Exhibitions serve as vital spaces for exploring both artwork and ideas, regardless of their conceptual cohesion, provided the artwork remains the focal point. While artists undoubtedly hold sway over their creations, the vitality of their work within an exhibition context is paramount. While Bourgeois' narrative holds significance, Arm's call for objectivity resonates more profoundly in the realm of art. Recently, I attended an exhibition featuring crime scene photographs meticulously archived by two individuals from their late grandfather's investigative career. Perhaps with age, I've grown more sensitive, but the unsettling experience of viewing graphic images of tragic murders accompanied by eerie music left me questioning the exhibition's perspective. I found myself pondering the worthiness of such contemplation. Thoughts raced about the identities of the deceased, the potential distress of their surviving loved ones upon encountering these images, and the motivations driving the gallery to present such material. Ultimately, identity serves as a conduit to something sacred, deserving of reverence. Exhibitions ought to foster critical perspectives that challenge us to reflect on our identities within the broader community fabric.