Monday, April 8, 2019

The Shed Finally Opens





ARCHITECTURE

The Shed Finally Opens in New York City’s Hudson Yards

Designed by Diller Scofidio + Renfro in collaboration with Rockwell Group, the $475 million arts center could be what sways public opinion back in favor of the oft-criticized Hudson Yards project
exterior of a building attached to another building
Located in Hudson Yards, the Shed is New York City’s newest cultural center.Photo: Iwan Baan
If the negative coverage of Hudson Yards has taught us anything, it’s that increasingly New York is becoming a tale of two cities. Much of the criticism stems from a belief that developers are building taller skyscrapers for the uber-wealthy to live like modern-day monarchs while simultaneously pushing the less affluent populations farther away from the city’s core. Hudson Yards has been viewed as the epitome of this dichotomy, a Dubai-on-the-Hudson that was drafted a decade ago and that seemed shockingly unnecessary by the time it opened last month. Yet opinions are nothing if not subject to change. And if Hudson Yards has one last chance to sway the public’s opinion, it’ll be with the Shed, an all-new $475 million cultural center that just opened to the masses.
exterior view of a building near the high line in new york city
The High Line runs right past the Shed.
Photo: Iwan Baan
To be fair, in some ways the goal of the Shed seems impossible: How do you entertain jaded New Yorkers who earnestly believe they’ve seen it all? Answer: Place a building on wheels so that it can multiply into two while also providing arguably the most diverse lineup of performances the city has ever witnessed. “In a city that’s increasingly become privatized, we wanted to ensure we got this public space right,” says Liz Diller, a partner at Diller Scofidio + Renfro, which as the lead architecture firm worked with Rockwell Group, the collaborating architects, in designing the structure. On paper, the Shed is 200,000-square-foot cultural space. But that’s like saying Ferrari is a car—factual, yes, but it forgoes all that makes it special. The Shed—which, with its façade made of lightweight, luminescent ETFE panels, could be confused for a massive advertisement for a down comforter—is an amorphous building, with an outer shell that sits on a set of wheels connected to a short track. Once activated, the shell moves away from the main frame of the building, in effect creating an entire new building that’s part of the original one. “The technology used to move the structure is actually old fashioned,” says Diller. “To open and close the Shed takes the same horsepower of one [Toyota] Prius engine, making it very economical.” (For reference, the 2019 Toyota Prius runs on 121 horsepower.)
interior of a building still under construction.
A look at the nearly completed interior of the main performance space within the Shed.
Photo: Timothy Schenck
Nevertheless, for however appealing the Shed’s design is, its main purpose is civic rather than aesthetic. The arts center will be used as a theater and a gallery space. What’s more, different events such as exhibitions, dance performances, and concerts can be put on at the same time in any of the five zones. Each zone has been cocooned with such acoustics that no one performance will affect another. “The Shed is a place for curiosity, adventure, and risk-taking,” says Alex Poots, the Shed’s artistic director and CEO (Poots was previously at the Barbican, the Tate galleries, and Manchester International Festival). “It’s where a wide range of artists and even wider range of audiences can meet.” To that end, future programming includes Björk, a history of African-American music, and exhibitions featuring the works of emerging New York City artists. In one of the gallery spaces, Gerhard Richter will pair with Steve Reich; in another, Ben Whishaw with Renée Fleming; and yet another, kung fu with the songs of Sia, an Australian singer-songwriter.
man walks in a room with art on the wall
A man walks past Reich Richter Pärt.
Photo: Timothy Schenck
In a move to prove the Shed’s ethos—a space for all New Yorkers—Poots has ensured that $10 performance tickets will be available and that a program called Open Call will offer free performances from New York City–based up-and-coming artists.
exterior of a building that's lit up
The moving wheels of the Shed rest on eight points, allowing it to open and close in five minutes.
Photo: Iwan Baan
“This city has always been at the forefront of culture,” said Jonathan Tisch, the Shed’s vice chair. “And while there are many cultural institutions in our town, many are about the past. The Shed is about the future.” Indeed, standing outside of the Shed, one can’t help but think of all the defining moments that seem destined to be experienced there. At certain hours of the day, when the lighting is just right, the building is iridescent, attracting our attention to remind us of the riches contained within its walls.

Wednesday, April 3, 2019

What Does the Art Institution of the Future Look Like?



What Does the Art Institution of the Future Look Like? Here Are the 4 Big Ideas Driving the Ambitious New Shed Art Center

From Björk to Boots Riley, the program aims to surprise you at every turn.
The Shed. Photo by Brett Beyer.
What can we expect from The Shed, the soon-to-open $500 million new cultural center on the far west side of Manhattan? The stated mission of the nonprofit is to commission, develop, and present original works of art across all disciplines, including projects that combine art forms in new and unexpected ways.
Like anything truly new, it’s hard to imagine what it will look like until it arrives. Amid intense curiosity—and no small amount of skepticism about the loftily-funded organization—the single biggest factor that seems to be driving fascination with and confidence in the project is CEO and artistic director Alex Poots, the forward-thinking veteran of the Manchester International Festival and Park Avenue Armory. Ahead of The Shed’s grand debut, we spoke to Poots about his ambitious plans and the big ideas behind the program.
The Shed CEO and artistic director Alex Poots (center) with staff. Image courtesy of The Shed.

1. Separating art into high and low is corrosive.

The Shed’s eclectic inaugural lineup includes contributions from figures as diverse as musician Björk, indie film director Boots Riley, and German painting legend Gerhard Richter. Poots says his childhood played a big role in shaping his view that art is no place for artificial distinctions between the elite and the masses. When he was learning to play the trumpet, “I was trained classically, but I played pop and jazz. They were all important to me, so there wasn’t a sense that one style was more precious than another. That’s something that has interested me through my entire career,” he says. “This idea of high art and low art I find really corrosive and patronizing.”
Poots also isn’t interested in making decisions based on what format artists are working in, how old or young they are, or how advanced they are in their craft. What’s important is their talent and how their work resonates in society—that holy communion between an artist, their work, and the public. “You can be a place for early career as well as more established artists,” he says. “Everything we do is seen through the prism of making work, commissioning it, and presenting it. There is a fluidity to that which is becoming more and more important… Things are not black and white.”
Founding artistic director and CEO of The Shed, Alex Poots. Photo by Craig Barritt/Getty Images for The Shed.

2. True artistic freedom comes when one isn’t responsible to anyone in particular—other than the public.

The Shed famously began as a pet project of former New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg. It was part of the original deal struck between the city and developers in 2005, when the city paved the way for the private Hudson Yards development of apartments, office space, and retail. Part of the agreement involved staking out city land for a non-profit cultural facility.
Poots remembers hearing Bloomberg and former deputy mayor of economic development Daniel Doctoroff, who is now The Shed’s board chair, say that they wanted an art center that would be unlike anything else in the city. “It should keep New York on the cutting edge and it should be complementary,” he recalls. “So from my perspective, that was a hallelujah moment. Because this wasn’t city leadership trying to come up with a vision for an arts center, which probably would not have been a good idea because it’s not their métier. It wasn’t a playground for private development. It was a civic responsibility to the city.”
The support from the city (which also came in the form of a $75 million grant) was supplemented by hundreds of millions of dollars in private donations. And the sum allowed the architects—Liz Diller, with David Rockwell—to create “the first building I’ve ever seen that really has almost everything you could ever want,” Poots says. The eight-story structure contains a movable outer shell that can create flexible indoor and outdoor event spaces, as well as a creative lab for artists, gallery spaces, and a theater and rehearsal space.

3. The best projects don’t follow an existing model. 

Two and a half years ago, Poots asked Turner Prize-winning artist and Oscar-winning filmmaker Steve McQueen, who he has known and worked with for decades, to think of an idea for The Shed. McQueen, who works across media and slips seamlessly between big-budget Hollywood and the rarefied art world, seemed like a natural fit. Poots didn’t offer any restrictions. In turn, McQueen raised the notion of trying to imagine what the history of African American music would sound like. (“He hears very visually,” Poots explains. “He had this idea that he could see and hear a family tree.”)
While some curators might have pushed McQueen toward slightly more well-trod terrain, Poots instead consulted Maureen Mahon, an associate professor of music at New York University. Together, the trio built out a team for the project, including 27-time Grammy Award-winner Quincy Jones, producer Dion ‘No I.D.’ Wilson, A&R executive Tunji Balogun, and music director Greg Phillinganes. This all-star lineup will support 25 emerging musicians and special guests who kick off the performances on April 5. “Soundtrack for America,” the five-night concert event, “does encapsulate a lot of our ambitions,” Poots says. “It’s not binary.”

4. Prioritize outreach. It won’t just help the community—it will make your program better, too. 

Poots describes it as a “gift of an opportunity” that when he arrived at The Shed three and a half years ago, “we had no building, no office, no staff, no checkbook.” One of his first hires was Tamara McCaw (who is now chief civic program officer), with whom he developed a program with a group of performers from Brooklyn who are experts in flxn, a form of street dance with roots in Jamaican bruk up. Working with the 16-person collective, whose members range in age from 18 to 26 years old, Poots and McCaw developed a three-year program that taught students in schools across the five boroughs this particular style of dance activism. They quietly expanded the program to ten, then 20, and now 30 schools. “We’re trying to show or enable these young people to realize the power that the arts can have not only on their own bodies and talents but also on their own destiny,” Poots says. And what resonates in schools helps him understand what might work back at The Shed.
Poots is under no illusions. Of The Shed’s admittedly ambitious programming, he says: “I know we’re going to fail sometimes.” But he’s optimistic anyway. “Approaching what we do in a rounded and wide ranging way, I have to believe will have some positive effects.”


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What Can We Expect From Ralph Rugoff’s Venice Biennale?



What Can We Expect From Ralph Rugoff’s Venice Biennale? Here Are 7 Takeaways From His Curatorial Vision and Artist List

We analyzed this year’s artist list to make some predictions about the exhibition's 58th edition.
Ralph Rugoff. Photo by Paul Zinken/picture alliance via Getty Images.
A lot has changed since 2017 and curator Ralph Rugoff’s upcoming edition of the Venice Biennale will greet a rapidly evolving public consciousness when it opens this May. For one thing, the art world has grown tired of the relentlessly multiplying art fairs and biennials. Then there’s the #MeToo movement, which was just beginning to go viral at the end of the previous biennale, and has now ballooned into a global rallying cry. Postcolonial discourses and labor wars have also reached a fever pitch.
At the same time, right-wing movements are also pushing ahead. While the US president remains fixated on building a US-Mexico border wall, Brazil elected a far-right leader, and Brexit is still teetering. Meanwhile, a wave of nationalism is sweeping Europe, including the biennale’s host country of Italy.
Enter Rugoff’s biennale, aptly titled “May You Live in Interesting Times.” Last week, the artistic director unveiled his artist list, a pared-down and gender-balanced roll call of 79 artists and collectives that is decidedly millennial and unabashedly hip. The main exhibition promises a shake-up of the old ways: for the first time, the Arsenale and Giardini will host separate exhibitions, with every artist in the biennale presenting in both venues.
While predecessors have typically taken to lofty themes, the London-based curator seems to be taking a step back, and is instead posing a more wide-angled question: What should a biennale be? We’ve analyzed Rugoff’s choice of artists and curatorial history to bring some insight into what the answer might look like in Venice.
Installation view of Lee Bul, Willing To Be Vulnerable (2015–16) at Hayward Gallery, 2018. © Lee Bul 2018. Photo by Linda Nylind.

Expect the Zeitgeist

When introducing his concept for the 2015 Lyon Biennial, Rugoff said that “a biennale functions as a kind of clock, a way of measuring time.” This time around, the zeitgeist-minded curator is seeking lessons by curating a list made up entirely of living artists.
“A lot of work in historical museums is dead,” Rugoff told the Guardian in 2015. “There is too much academic work that has very little meaning for our culture. It’s like displaying the remains of a decaying body on a wall.”
And there’ll be no old art found in Venice: At least a third of the 83 individual artists were born in the 1980s and one artist, Augustas Serapinas, was born in the 1990s. (It’s worth noting that Venice is not the youngest biennial happening this year, however; the age at the Whitney Biennialacross the pond averages even younger.)
Pictures by South African photographer Zanele Muholi at the 43rd annual Rencontres d’Arles photography festival in France. Photo by Gerard Julien/AFP/Getty Images.
So it’s not surprising that many of the artists speak to issues that have only recently entered mainstream discourse. Jesse Darling’s work tackles issues of identity including gender, sexuality, and disability. Meanwhile, in a world where many are striving to “keep up” with the Kardashians and increasingly unattainable standards of beauty, Japanese artist Mari Katayama’s self-portraits forefront her own non-conforming body and call into question normalized ideals.
Then there is the work of South African photographer Zanele Muholi, who questions and destabilizes existing labels, and contests representations of the black body and LGBTQ people. Her self-portrait, Bona, Charlottesville, Virginia (2015), included in the exhibition, presents an image of the self as a site where cultural images collide.
In keeping with the recurring idea of time, the roster also includes several artists working across time-based media: London-based Ed Atkins, LA’s Ian Cheng, and Canadian artist Jon Rafman. Veteran video artists like Arthur Jafa and Hito Steyerl will also have work on view.

No Break From “Experience” Art

Rugoff has long embraced the growing trend of creating art “experiences.” At the Hayward Gallery in London, he oversaw Carsten Höller’s helter skelter slides, a balloon-filled room courtesy of Martin Creed, and the recently closed group show “Space Shifters,” which included a slew of disorienting, perspective-skewing works of art, such as Alicja Kwade’s steel-and-mirror maze, Weltenlinie, and Richard Wilson’s engine oil-filled room, 20:50. 
Argentinian artist Tomas Saraceno poses inside his work Algo R(h)i(y)thms at his exhibition ”On Air” at the Palais de Tokyo. Photo by Chesnot/Getty Images.
The Hayward director has been administering this kind of curatorial play in measured doses, which could prove promising for the upcoming biennale, where more than half of the visitors are expected to be under 26 years old. 
In Venice, the French artist Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, who has been making immersive and playful installations since the 1980s, will present Cosmorama: a life-sized diorama from an institutional show in Leipzig that aims to transport the viewer to Mars. Installation artist Tomás Saraceno, who created an incredible web structure at the Palais de Tokyo last year, is also on Rugoff’s list.

A Downsized Biennial

The late Nigerian curator Okwui Enwezor’s Venice Biennial, titled “All the World’s Futures,” seemed to hold the weight of the world on its shoulders. Then came the French-born Christine Macel’s “Vive Arte Viva” in 2017, which felt like PTSD therapy for the previous year with its focus on spellbinding, mystical art.
It doesn’t seem like “May You Live in Interesting Times” will locate itself on this same spectrum. Speaking in London about his plans for the biennial, Rugoff remarked on how the more than 300 existing biennials around the world often recycle variations on similar themes. That may be why he wants to reconsider the very structure of the exhibition. It is, for one thing, the smallest roster in at least a decade—and by a long shot. Rugoff’s biennial is 42 percent smaller than Enwezor’s and 34 percent smaller than Macel’s edition. It comes a little closer to Bice Curiger’s 2011 biennale, which included just 82 artists.
The Arsenale at the Venice Biennale. © Photo: Haupt & Binder.
The Arsenale at the Venice Biennale. © Photo: Haupt & Binder.
The move also means that, theoretically, more of the biennial’s €13 million budget could be better distributed to each contributor at a time when there’s a growing awareness of the lack of resources given to artists. Exhibiting artist Otobong Nkanga found a solution for this with her Carved to Flow soap production “company” that she established at documenta 14. The project is ongoing and seeks new kinds of self-sustaining support structures.
Meanwhile, the gender gap appears to be closing, at least in this edition. Rugoff noted that the show will comprise 50 percent female-identifying artists, but he was quick to add that this was incidental, not a quota. He also pointed out that the national pavilions this year are also, incidentally, gender balanced.

Parallel Shows, Parallel Realities

Separating the main exhibition into two shows with the same crop of artists in each reflects the multiple realities that seem to be unfolding in the contemporary landscape. When introducing his double vision for the biennial, the curator acknowledged the appearance of many worlds in a time of “alternative facts,” and said he hopes the exhibition will foster dialogue across divisions. “Art grows out of a practice of entertaining multiple perspectives: of holding in mind seemingly contradictory and incompatible notions, and juggling diverse ways of making sense of the world,” he said in a statement.
Fittingly, he has mysteriously nicknamed his two exhibitions “Proposition A” and “Proposition B,” terminology that evokes—and disrupts—the classical structure of debate, which counters a proposition against an opposition. The curator cites the influence of the French philosopher Bruno Latour, who asked in 2004: “What would critique do if it could be associated with more, not with less, with multiplication, not subtraction?”
Parallel worlds will be a running motif in the biennale, and visitors will be able to project themselves into these different spheres, both through virtual reality and role play. Alex Da Corte will be presenting his much-loved and hilarious 57 Varieties, which debuted at the last Carnegie International. For that video work, he adopts the personas of various characters throughout the last two centuries of popular culture, from Bart Simpson to Bob Dylan to the Pink Panther.

Building Borders and Walls

This November marks 30 years since the fall of the Berlin Wall. Whether that feels like the distant past or not depends on your own perspective. And for the younger artists on the list, the topic of walls might conjure different associations. But in any case, the subject of borders remains a preoccupation across many demographics and it spans both sides of the political spectrum. 
Rugoff has said he is more interested in “pleasure and critical thinking,” than politics in an earlier interview with artnet News—and that he’s not interested in art that pushes a single point of view. Nonetheless, the politically-charged motif of walls will run throughout the exhibition. Mexican conceptual artist Teresa Margolles will take a wall from the Ciudad Juarez in Mexico that used to stand at a high school where teenagers were assassinated in a bout of drug-related violence. The forensic artifact is a heart-wrenching representation of the harm that can come from polarizing social divisions. Meanwhile, the Lebanese sound artist Lawrence Abu Hamdan shows that walls can always be penetrated. His 2018 work Walled/Unwalled, made within the resplendent Funkhaus studios in former East Berlin, looks at court cases that feature evidence obtained by listening through walls.

Painting Preserves Its “Zombie-Like Resilience”

Novelist Umberto Eco’s book The Open Work is “still incredibly cogent and fresh,” according to Rugoff, who has cited it as a cornerstone text. The 1965 book describes the culture of art as one that defies conformism and relentlessly questions its own conventions as well as those of society.
There will be a lot of painting that testifies to this idea, including art’s capacity to question its own conventions. “I’m always interested in how painting, which has been regularly declared dead for the last 60 years, has had this incredible zombie-like resilience and keeps finding ways to reinvent itself,” Rugoff told press in London. 
To wit, Julie Mehretu’s work Sing, Unburied, Sing (2018), which will be included in the exhibition, looks at how the medium can share dialogue between two categorically separated methods of image-making: news photography and abstract painting. Beginning with documentary photographs of street protests and conflagrations, including Charlottesville’s infamous white supremacy march and counter-march, Catalonia’s independence rallies, and California’s wildfires, Mehretu blurs and obscures these found images in Photoshop and then overlays them with her characteristic gestural abstraction.
Last year, the double reveal of Kehinde Wiley and Amy Sherald’s presidential portraits seemed to signal the dawn of a new era of black portraiture. Black perspectives in painting will take center stage in Venice, too, by way of Njideka Akunyili Crosby, who will be including And We Begin to Let Go from 2013, and acclaimed painter Henry Taylor, who will show a work atypically depicting only white subjects.
What is painting and what is not? Rugoff gets at the eternal question by showing Avery Singer, an artist whose practice illustrates what the curator calls the “silliness” of categories such as “digital artist.” The painter favors inkjet printers over paintbrushes, and the curator notes that her work on canvas explores digital subcultures as much as an artist working in a purely digital medium.
Installation view of “Avery Singer: Pictures Punish Words” at Kunsthalle Zurich, 2014. Photo © Annick Wetter, courtesy of Kunsthalle Zurich.

History in the Making

Of course, when the biennale opens in May, we will learn more about Rugoff’s vision. Its living, breathing roster will offer a time-stamp of the contemporary landscape, a measurement of where the art world finds itself.
What does that look like? Perhaps not all good. Though the gender-balanced selection is encouraging, and though there are enough non-white artists to stand up to allegations of tokenism, a Western perspective still dominates. With Europeans making up 30 percent of the list, and US artists accounting for another 20 percent, can the exhibition really deliver the multiple viewpoints it promises? What might be left out by the exclusion of historic artists? Whether “May You Live in Interesting Times” will prove to be representative of a truly pluralistic world view is an altogether interesting and important question—and time will only tell.

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