In the midst of the self-important and hyper-commercial Toronto International Art Fair (which, by the way, becomes less international each year), Rugoff's presentation on his latest exhibitions——courtesy of the Power Plant——was like a delicious, nutritious kale chip in a sea of jujubes.
Rugoff is an uber-chill, charismatic, and inclusive expat American. Originally hailing from New York but better known for his time in L.A. and San Francisco, he talks about his efforts to reinvent London's temporary-exhibit-only Hayward Gallery for contemporary art. A lurking, concrete Brutalist behemoth, the Hayward faces a unique challenge. Namely its exhibition funding is based almost exclusively on ticket sales——no small challenge for a museum director! Rugoff's solutions for engaging the public in contemporary art are, like him, nothing short of genius.
If you can get your hands on his article on the Museum of Jurassic Technology, it's also an exceptional read.
Too impatient to watch the lecture? Check out the highlights after the jump.
In Weber's The Big Giving, human extremities emerge from volcanic rock to spit, sweat and vomit water among other activities. The beauty in this fountain work is that it is both banal and (in the context of an art gallery) profane. It contravenes expected behavioral norms using humor, in turn helping the public feel more comfortable around contemporary art.
I love how Rugoff selects artworks complicit with Brian O'Doherty's assertion that people should never feel as though they're in a temple or church, whispering, tiptoeing, restraining both their motion and emotions when it comes to viewing art.
Another public installation that had the public well and truly engaged was by Antony Gormley, and consisted of 30 standing life sized casts of his own body positioned in public spaces, including at the edge of the Hayward's rooftop! Yep, you got it: the gallery routinely received calls about an impending suicide on the premises.
Antony Gormley, Event Horizon, 2007. Installation view from Blind Light, figure atop the Hayward. Photo courtesy of Gautier Deblonde. |
Check out Tomás Saraceno's Observatory/Air-Port-City, installed on one of three rooftop pavilions at the Hayward during Psycho Buildings: it's essentially a trippy, two level bouncy-castle. Who says art's not fun?!
Clearly bringing contemporary art out of the white-walled gallery has major advantages!
Tomás Saraceno, Observatory/Air-Port-City, Hayward Gallery, '08.
Image courtesy of David Levene and the Guardian. |
Another genius work from Psycho Buildings is Gelitin's flooded rooftop terrace. Equipped with a sketchy, wobbly dock and the most basic floating devices to ever be called boats, the flooded pavilion acted as an edge-of-the-world elevated lake. Visitors reported they felt they might paddle over the edge of the building at any moment. Adrenaline rush and a view—who could ask for more?
Normally, Proceeding and Unrestricted With Without Title by the Austrian collective Gelitin, 2008. Installation view, Hayward Gallery pavilion. |
Mike Nelson, To the Memory of HP Lovecraft. Installation view, Hayward Gallery, 2008. Photo courtesy of Clara Molden. |
Rugoff even included two works (only one of which I'll feature) by a favourite artist of mine, the Korean Suh Do Ho. Using a simple nylon fabric, Suh recreates in perfect scale and detail the houses in which he has lived——you may have seen his New York apartment in the top floor of the AGO when it reopened after Gehry's revamp! In this instance, he has crafted the stairway to the basement of his apartment which floats just above the ground, transposing one physical space atop another.
Suh Do Ho, Staircase V, 2008. Installation view, Hayward Gallery |
Los Carpinteros (Cuban collective), Show Room, 2008. Disassembled Ikea furniture. Installation view, Hayward Gallery. Image courtesy of the artists. |
Finally, this humorous work from Psycho Buildings was created by disassembling generic Ikea furniture and bringing it to life à la Exploded View. Not only does this tap into every Ikea customer's feelings, at one point or another, of hapless and enraged frustration whilst gently massaging our destructive urges, but it also brings the aftermath of catastrophe into sharp contrast with our otherwise safe, prosaic lives.
Rugoff succeeds yet again at piquing our interest both within the gallery and without while dredging enthusiasm for artwork from a shy, reluctant, and skeptical public. Bravissima!