Jayne H. Baum

Susanna Cole and Erin Donnelly

Elena Filipovic

Ingrid LaFleur

Trong G. Nguyen

Olu Oguibe

Chika Okeke

Sandhini Poddar

Praxis

Ashkan Sahihi

Marketa Uhlirova

The One
Trong G. Nguyen

At the outset of this project, I realized the impossibility of the task at hand. What curator or artist could carry the burden of prophet, superman, messiah, or chosen one? Citing our clever race that invented necessary things as mythology and religion, I was most interested in the possibility of how artists and curators viewed coming to terms with the seemingly insurmountable problems facing us today. In an act at once escapist and hopeful, the idea of The One materialized. Like those before, I simply asked “what if?” and “who?” In the current “Art Matrix,” there is not such a glaring need for an Art Savior, but one would not be turned away. What prods this investigation is the belief that art, first of all, can be a force, in fact, “the force” to reckon with and sublimate a system that feels too commonplace, too inadequate, too devoid of the chi grande that guides it.

Days after the WTC attacks, composer Karlheinz Stockhausen proclaimed September 11th "the greatest work of art ever.” It was an assertion both brave and lazy, with dashes of truth to consider. But ultimately, in such acts of supposed radicalism there seems to be missing an ingredient of risk that alters perception with greater efficacy. The world has not changed for the better since September 11th. The fundamentalism that breeds in God’s country, from East to West, is merely a tired, literal radical piety, such that the cause, effect, and consequence are pre-scripted. From the perspective of an aesthete, what lacks is any room or category for “degree of difficulty.” Islamic extremists dream of martyrdom’s quick ticket to paradise, passing go and proceeding immediately to the life of bounty and booty that awaits. Christian fundamentalists invoke the good book, so long as its pages are interleafed with dollar bills. Their copycat crusades have left an endless trail of tears. Atheists and Agnostics go off into the great unknown. The One asks, “what about artists-martyrs?” What is their compensation, a retrospective at the über Guggenheim in the sky? It is difficult to separate the payback from the act of extremism, but perhaps there is an alternate heaven after all.

What is the make up of an artistic radicalism that will allow it to bring prophetic balance to an imperiled society? Looking at the constituency as a whole, one can see the shortcomings. The current art market pinches on accountability and conceptual risk, opting instead for a veneer that inhibits self-reflection. There is little recognition on the part of artists, curators, gallerists, and audience to exercise responsibility for their makings and undertakings, and too often, they keep one another wanting. While most of the work we see has some redeeming characteristics, it begs the question, like an errant quest for meaning, “is it enough?” Is it enough that a work is entertaining, well-crafted, sincere, or “good?” All this may be adequate, but it is not sufficient to define what constitutes the standard-bearer that is the One, which demands an extremism predicated on the desire and foresight to go beyond mere standardized excellence.

Rather then placing full burden on the artist, this curator opted to choose as representative of the One a singular work, letting it bare the weight of the promise. The selection was Canadian Marla Hlady’s Waltzing Matilda, a mechanical sculpture of three spinning brunette wigs that dance to the eponymous beat in their own missing heads. They mark a triumvirate, indeed a trinity, of song, dance, intellect, and flying hair that may very well commandeer a dizzying balance to the unsteady fold. Waltzing Matilda is at once a measure of the absurd, yet the uncanny uplifting nature of the piece suppresses the want to associate it with any number of equally valid, horrific associations such as demonically possessed Linda Blair-type children turning heads and necks full circle or to the graphic reportage of war.

And just possibly, in this corner of the world, it is this very ability to suppress and equalize fear that the One is empowered with. Almost telekinetically, Waltzing Matilda swirls aggressive action with levity and joy.

When viewed from outside, Hlady’s wig machines silently waltz to three different versions of the Australian folk song behind a storefront window. As one enters the space, an aural revelation completes the riddle. It is a maintenance of balance, just like a calming of the seas, that defines this work. The orchestration is forceful, silent, odd, elemental, ecstatic, repellant, and alchemic. In Waltzing Matilda, the One, most importantly, positions itself in plain view for all to see and judge, subjecting its spirit and body to an auto-da-fé that will define what we choose to remember and forget.

It is fantastical to think that any one or twelve artists can alleviate the problems afflicting the world, but if they are incapable of playing the role of radicals willing to risk, then who? Perhaps auspiciously, The One opens on the Ides of October, same as the birthday of Virgil, author of the epic poem Aeneid. What lies ahead after Troy falls?

About the curator
Trong G. Nguyen is an artist and independent curator based in New York. As an artist, he has participated in exhibitions in the United States and abroad. Recently curated shows include Eleven Nguyens and the Thirty Year Loss (PH Gallery), amBUSH! (Van Brunt Gallery), From New York with Love (Covivant Gallery), Miraculous: Contemporary Exvotos Paintings (chezTGN), and Who? Me? Role Play in Self-Portrait Photography (Zabriskie Gallery).