top of page

The 2024 Whitney Biennial: Even Better Than the Real Thing [?]

Maja Ruznic's The Past Awaiting the Future/Arrival of Drummers, 2023. Its horizontal presentation

establishes a linear narrative divided into past, present, and future. Courtesy of artrabbit.com


Since its inception, the Whitney Museum of American Art has been a keystone in championing contemporary American artists in New York City. Filling a void in the cultural epicenter’s primarily traditional early 20th century art scene, the Whitney granted early exposure to famed artists such as Edward Hopper, Georgia O’Keeffe, and Louise Bourgeois, celebrating the innovative forms and current subjects found in their work. 


The Whitney Biennial, an integral part of the museum’s history — and one of the longest-running exhibitions of its kind in the United States — has grown to become one of the most acclaimed platforms for showcasing both emerging and established artists in contemporary art. The Biennial's tradition of showcasing art which speaks to the milieu of the moment is continued on this year's show, entitled Even Better than the Real Thing


Holly Herndon & Mat Dryhurst's xhairymutantx Embedding

Study 1 from 2024. Photographed by Audrey Wang


While its name may suggest an overbearing prominence of AI generated controversy, in fact, only two works of the biennial’s more than three floors of occupied space can be attested to artificial intelligence. From a larger series entitled xhairymutantx by artists Holly Herndon and Mat Dryhurst, two glossy panels hang at the very beginning of the biennials sixth floor, unavoidably perching a highly contested subject within the art world before the viewer at their immediate arrival.


By training artificial intelligence models to maintain certain facets of American born, Berlin based experimental artist Holly Herndon’s character — including her vibrant red hair, blue eyes, and a distinct green sci-fi-esque utility suit — the artist has made it possible to generate an infinite number of recognizable self-portraits. Despite the prompts fed to the AI model — however outlandish they may be — Herndon will always remain at the forefront of the generated image, enabling the viewer to imagine themselves, someone, or something else that they covet as the key subject in an AI art series. 


Herndon and Dryhurst question what is next for art, and whether or not AI models such as these can be used to bolster the ideas and concepts of creatives, or inadvertently stifle them. While posing a question that has consumed the art world in recent years, Herndon’s work — the only work of the entire biennial to cover such a topic — fails to capture the essence of this argument as successfully as Harold Cohen’s AARON, an AI model utilizing mid-20th century technology to illustrate mundane, human imagery. Located on the 7th floor of the Whitney, this exhibition, of no affiliation to the biennial, is more impactful in its examination of the past in recognition of our contemporary challenges. Creating illustrations in real time on large pieces of paper, visitors can witness the ongoing evolution of a remarkable piece of technology, well after the passing of its creator.


The sixth-floor room dedicated solely to artist Suzanne Jackson's

suspended paintings. © 2024 Whitney Museum of American Art


Works such as Suzanne Jackson’s series of “paintings without canvas” more closely subscribe to the greater theme of the biennial. Materializing from accumulated layers of acrylic, a gel medium, and various natural and synthetic items acquired from her daily life, Jackson’s work assumes an oddly organic presence throughout the large room that it occupies. Nailed to the wall, hung from the ceiling by wire, or laid over horizontal beams, Jackson’s creations each withhold their own unique and dynamic identities.


In Jackson’s Swingin’ in Sweetcake’s Storm, the acrylic appears to stretch and contort where four wires pierce it through the top. At its relaxed points, the thin material wrinkles, flaps, and folds in on itself. A centralized swath of pistachio shells evoke the appearance of an unpleasant lesion or an array of orifices. These varying visual traits result in a product that is hauntingly fleshy, appearing as though it was stripped from something that was once living and breathing. 


The exposed nature of these pieces, completely unobstructed by their lack of frames, is unavoidable in recognition of the notion of the body. Parallels between both the objectification and commodification of art and that of the body dominate the narrative; the mere notion of something being “on exhibition” for all to see and critique, with disregard for any agency that the subject may have speaks volumes to current issues presiding over modern culture. 


Lotus L. Kang's enormous sheets of film divide their space of display into a contemplative maze. Photo: Filip Wolak


Descend to level 5 and you will soon encounter Lotus L. Kang’s array of amber, brown, and yellow toned sheets of film, entitled In Cascades. Faithful to its name, these enormous sheets of film — many of which so long that they gather into a roll where they meet the floor — transform the space into a maze. Secured to the ceiling by metal rigging, one feels a sense of active creation, as though they have entered the artist's studio, witnessing an unrevealed project. 


Peppered with tonal imperfections, stripes, and gradients, not a single reel of film is alike; remarkably, as the biennial proceeds, these “imperfections” covering the film will continue to develop. Due to the film’s untreated nature, rendering it “continually sensitive” as Kang states, the film is manipulated by everything it is subjected to, including the light casted from the ceiling above and the temperature of the room. One can liken this process to the ongoing changes endured by the mind and body; ever evolving, ever influenced by our surroundings; we are a product of what enters and exits our space, precisely like Kang’s film.


The theme of continuity, age, and change does not end at Lotus L. Kang’s In Cascades; nor does it in the instance of Eddie Rodolfo Aparicio’s Paloma Blanca Deja Volar/White Dove Let Us Fly, where one can witness, also in real time, the slow destruction of a caged wall of light-sensitive amber, filled with detritus from the streets of Los Angeles and white activist-proposed Central American legislation. Even more intensely is the subject explored in Carmen Winant’s The Last Safe Abortion, a series of 2700 four-by-six inkjet photographs lining the entirety of a wall on the sixth floor. Juxtaposing often intimate images captured within midwestern and southern abortion clinics before and after the overturning of Roe versus Wade, Winant places emphasis on the inescapably reshaped norms so many Americans face.


Where hopes for a promising exploration of the triumphs and pitfalls of AI fell slightly short, this year’s biennial offers a wonderfully contemplative survey of the body as a unit — including its exploitation, degradation, restriction, and evolution — pleasantly burning into one’s memory and resonating long after departure from the Meatpacking District. While deeming the renowned art show a success or a fail is as subjective as decisively narrowing in on the best work it showcases, one thing is ultimately clear, this year’s biennial has ignited conversation. Discover your place in the discussion before the 2024 Whitney Biennial’s closure on August 11th.


© 2024 Whitney Museum of American Art

20 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page