Showing posts with label Hans Ulrich Obrist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hans Ulrich Obrist. Show all posts

4 December 2019

KIDS THESE DAYS: THE AGE OF YOU AT MOCA


Exhibition Reviews | Mary Wallace 

Toronto's Museum of Contemporary Art’s current show focuses on a very intimate and socially relevant topic: “You” or rather the concept of “you” in the face of the internet age. The Age of You examines what individuality means in an age where we have constant internet access and the internet has constant access to us. The show features work from over 70 artists in various mediums, curated by Shaman Basar, Douglas Copland and Hans Ulrich Obrist. Most of the show appears in the form of posters with images of art and related text; these posters are divided into thematic chapters. Many of my fellow editors and likely you reading this, have seen The Age of You and have probably formed a strong opinion of it. The show is divisive (I would guess intentionally so) which is why I was initially hesitant to write about it. I, personally, did not enjoy the show but I didn’t want to write a review that just amounted to venting. So after gaining some distance and taking some time to think about it, I am ready to share my opinion in my professional capacity as a critic.

I, personally, did not enjoy the show but I didn’t want to write a review that just amounted to venting.

(Photograph courtesy of Mary Wallace)


Well maybe with a little venting.

What is this exhibition saying? What is its Big Idea? I was not able to figure this out. Of course, the job of art is not always to inform; asking a question is a perfectly valid driving force for a show. However, The Age of You does not ask a lot of questions, it prefers to make statements.


(Photograph courtesy of Mary Wallace)

Lots of them.

(Photograph courtesy of Mary Wallace)

Most of the exhibition’s text is written in the second person, as though speaking to “you” directly. The use of the second person creates a sense of urgency but it has the unintended side effect of making the writers’ assumptions about the reader very clear, especially when those assumptions are wrong. For instance, the exhibition presents a very specific notion of what individuality is (or used to be) and does consider other potential versions of “the self” in a serious way. A good example of these incorrect assumptions appears in the chapter labeled “The New Crowd”.


The centre text reads: "Do you feel safe in a crowd? Do you feel in danger in a crowd? Do you feel alone in a crowd? Do you form bonds in a crowd? When does a crowd become a mob? Is a social movement a global crowd? Is it hard to be an individual when being in a crowd has never been easier?" (Photograph courtesy of Mary Wallace)

The text on the left reads: "What is the opposite of you? ...me? ...a crowd? ...a machine? ...some yet-unnamed entity?" (Photograph courtesy of Mary Wallace)


At the very least this section asks questions of the viewer. I found the question "what is the opposite of you?" very compelling but I did feel the same way about the exhibition's answer. The Age of You is deeply nostalgic for a lost sense of “classic individuality”. Classic individuality in this case is presented as some kind of Golden Age of the self; one that I don’t think has ever existed. Was the opposite of “the self” ever “the crowd”, was the opposite of “man” ever “nature”? I would hope not. To consider the notion of individuality as simply being separate from the world around you and from other people, to me is a deeply cynical position. I myself find the prevalence of social media anxiety inducing, but to long for separation from everyone and everything is not a healthy response to that anxiety.

Was the opposite of “the self” ever “the crowd”, was the opposite of “man” ever “nature”? I would hope not.

There are also sections where the text is outright mean-spirited.

The small text reads: “Dating sounds as old fashioned as courting. Chaste, consequence-free messaging, communal laptopping, asexual cuddling and body contact negotiated through legalistic consent dialogs, all followed by ghosting. The relationship’s never over, because it never really started.” (Photograph courtesy of Mary Wallace)

It sounds like this poster was written after a disappointing Tinder date or maybe the writer is upset that they had to do consent training at work. Once again, I could not relate to the exhibition’s nostalgia for a time when “consent dialogue” was not considered in the dating scene; I know very few people who would. Maybe if I knew what “communal laptopping” meant I could relate more.

The small text reads:"For a few centuries, smart people— who, being smart— more or less ran the world. The flattening effect of the internet has allowed the world to be run by people with an IQ of 100. It is the revenge of the bell curve." (Photograph courtesy of Mary Wallace)
Similarly, I could not understand this poster's longing for a time when smart people "more or less ran the world". When was that exactly? I cannot think of a time, much less a few centuries, when intelligence was the only determining factor in running the world.

This void emoji is calling to me, or maybe it's just the emergency exit. (Photograph courtesy of Mary Wallace) 
I had a hard time determining the level of irony in this exhibition; whether I was supposed to agree with these statements or if they were meant to be like the inflammatory statements of an internet troll. If that is the case then this exhibition is brilliant. It perfectly captures the feeling of reading a rant on an internet forum. One of the reasons I was hesitant to write about The Age of You was because I didn’t want to prove the exhibition right by ranting about it on the internet (the very thing that is supposedly robbing me of my very soul) but what is the alternative? Letting an artwork dictate my internet usage? Not exactly the actions of a classic individual either.

But don't just take my word for it. The Age of You will be on at MOCA until January 5, 2020.  

22 October 2019

JUST ANOTHER WEEKEND ON THE INTERNET


Beyond Tradition | Erika Serodio


A few Saturdays ago, on September 28th, Jia Tolentino – a staff writer at the New Yorker – spoke to a sold out Toronto crowd about her new book Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self Delusion.

Trick Mirror. Photo Courtesy of Erika Serodio.

A few Sundays ago, on September 29th, I rode my bicycle to Toronto’s Museum of Contemporary Art where the Age of You exhibition has taken over floors two and three of the factory-turned-museum building.

Age of You at MOCA. Photograph courtesy of Erika Serodio. 
These two shows felt like companions to each other. Both focused broadly on two words that have become increasingly difficult to define: the self and the internet. Why, you might ask, would I choose to fill my weekend with the bleak and bitter words describing my generation’s demise? The answer is twofold. First, to compare how a more traditional museum space and a space that’s definitely not a museum engage their audiences in an important conversation. And second, because I think it’s an important conversation.

I like to think I’m not a fan-girl kind of girl. But Jia Tolentino has not only made me her fan-girl, she has forced me to reconsider the ways that I think about myself. Her new book is a collection of essays about “the incentives that shape us, and about how hard it is to see ourselves clearly through a culture that revolves around the self” (according to the book’s jacket.) Tolentino was interviewed about the book by Kathleen Newman-Bremang, senior writer for Refinery29. Over 700 people attended the sold out show at Hot Docs cinema. Obviously I’m not the only fan-girl.

Kathleen Newman-Bremang & Jia Tolentino. Photograph Courtesy of Erika Serodio.

Tolentino’s subject matter is dismal. She spoke about the performance of self, about how the internet has monetized identity and selfhood, and about how when we are burdened with an economic mandate our sense of self becomes unclear. And yet, with an uncanny lightness, both her book and her speaking event have made spaces where I feel comfortable and compelled to critique the way that I present myself on the internet compared to in-person.

Age of You at MOCA. Photograph courtesy of Erika Serodio. 

In Age of You, the MOCA exhibition curated by Shumon Basar, Douglas Coupland, and Hans Ulrich Obrist, the artworks interrogate how “you –and all your online behaviours, enriched data sets and millions of meta-data points –are this century’s most valuable resource.” Age of You was a whole lot more apocalyptic than Trick Mirror. People walked through the exhibition quietly and uncomfortably. I was disturbed by the images and the words presented. This is actually a feeling I love in museums – please, make me feel something! I thought I would come away from this weekend with a better understanding of how algorithms and data sets are affecting me. Both shows made me realize that it’s impossible to understand the effects of the internet because it’s moving faster than we can comprehend. What might be the most important thing is to remain critical of our online behaviours.

Tolentino joked about how several interviewers have commented on the fact that her essays do not have conclusions. But then she said something that had the entire audience laughing in agreement. She asked us to think about some of the best conversations we have ever had and how they usually end without a conclusion. She acted out her version of this scenario by nodding with a bewildered look and said “Yeah, man.” To Jia Tolentino, “a neat ending absolves us of productive discomfort.”

Age of You at MOCA. Photograph courtesy of Erika Serodio.
The last piece in the Age of You’s exhibition is titled The Impossibility of David Bowie Being Dead in the Minds of the Living. It’s an effigy of Bowie’s face that represents his immortal persona. Yeah, man.