The Whitney Biennial, the longest-running survey of American art now in its eighty-first iteration, reckons with an evolving cultural landscape– one in which our digital life challenges the institution’s place as the prominent delivery system for the state of contemporary art. For most of us, the physical space of a museum or gallery isn’t as present in our everyday lives as the massive quantities of digital matter we consume. The Biennial reckons with that truth, in part, by offering a selection of exceedingly tactile, temporary, and even urgent pieces that can only be understood in the flesh, right now.
The 2024 Whitney Biennial Debuts in New York
“Even Better Than the Real Thing” was named for a 1991 U2 song, the lyrics of which plead a lover to “slide down the surface of things.” If you follow The Whitney’s advice and start from the top, working your way down, the first piece you see might be Holly Herndon and Matt Dryhurst’s xhairymutantx Embedding Study 1 (2024), a futuristic print made with AI tools. You might expect the rest of the exhibit to offer a similarly spacy, futuristic take on technology and reality. But if the curatorial theme poses a fork in the road between virtual and physical, the most impactful works on display turn swiftly toward the latter.
Organic matter is center stage– cloths dyed in the river, 3D prints of human bones, and debris suspended in amber all interrogate the idea of what is real. This year’s collection is relatively small but rich in perspectives– nearly half of its 71 artists and collectives were born or reside outside the United States. That plurality is this Biennial’s strength, offering a take on our current existence large in scope but contrastingly considered in meaning. The exhibit opened late this month and will remain on view until August 11. Read on for a selection of standout pieces.
Eddie Rodolfo Aparicio’s Paloma Blanca Deja Volar/White Dove Let us Fly (2024)
Eddie Rodolfo Aparicio, “Paloma Blanca Deja Volar/White Dove Let us Fly,” 2024. Modified amber, volcanic stone, pigeon wings, ceramic, cloths, archival documents, and found objects. Collection of the artist; courtesy Commonwealth and Council, Los Angeles and Mexico City © Eddie Rodolfo Aparicio, courtesy of The Whitney.
Near a window on the sixth floor stands an imposing wall of amber made by the Los Angeles native. The resinous structure holds in debris, dirt, and archival materials. It’s already bending in the heat of the sun and will continue to change over time. There are small cavities through which the viewer can peek at what’s crumbling in its hollow center. It’s an incredible visual that also invites the kind of complicated introspection about history and impermanence that even the most well-written wall plaques could only dream of inspiring.
Isaac Julien’s Iolaus/In the Life (Once Again. . . Statues Never Die) (2022)
Isaac Julien, “Iolaus/In the Life (Once Again. . . Statues Never Die),” 2022. Inkjet print on Canson Platine Fibre Rag, 59 × 78 3/4 in. (150 × 200 cm). © Isaac Julien. Courtesy the artist and Victoria Miro, London, courtesy of The Whitney.
The British installation artist who now lives in California presents a film about Harlem Renaissance figure Alain Locke across five screens. The video installation arrives at the end of a quiet hall, distanced from the other happenings outside. The 31-minute film features excellent performances by actors André Holland and Danny Huston and beautiful vocals by Alice Smith. The space also displays sculptures by Richmond Barthe and Matthew Angelo Harrison, in a practice the artist calls the inclusion “poetic restitution.”
Jes Fan’s Biomorphic Sculptures
Jes Fan, “Cross Section (Right Leg Muscle III),” 2023. PLA filaments, fiberglass, resin, pigment, glass, 19 x 31 x 13 in. (48.26 x 78.74 x 33.02 cm). Collection of the artist. Commissioned by M+ Museum, Hong Kong. Courtesy the artist; Empty Gallery, Hong Kong; and Andrew Kreps Gallery, New York. Photograph by Olympia Shannon, courtesy of The Whitney.
In the dichotomy of man versus machine, Brooklyn-based artist Jes Fan occupies the more sophisticated space in between. 3D-printed CAT scans of his own muscular structures are adorned with delicately blown glass. The result is sculptural self-portraits that propose the breakability of the body as a great strength.
Julia Phillips’s Nourisher (2022)
Julia Phillips, “Nourisher,” 2022. Ceramic, medical PVC tubes, stainless steel, steel cable, 69 ½ × 32 × 24 in. (177 × 81 × 61 cm). © Julia Phillips. Courtesy Matthew Marks Gallery, courtesy of The Whitney.
Phillips’s sculptures on the sixth-floor offer as much in negative space as they do in materials used to astonishing effect. Nourisher, a partial bust of a woman hooked up to plastic tubes, stands out among the rest.
Nikita Gale’s TEMPO RUBATO (STOLEN TIME) (2023-24)
Nikita Gale, “TEMPO RUBATO (STOLEN TIME),” 2023-24. Modified player piano, audio, and LED lighting system. Collection of the artist; courtesy Commonwealth and Council, Los Angeles and Mexico City; Petzel, New York; Emalin, London; and 56 Henry, New York. © Nikita Gale, courtesy of The Whitney.
An automated player piano drums its own keys, disconnected from the usual music-making methods. The keys, stripped of their ivory, do not pluck strings to produce sound but slam rhythmically on, creating a vision of the absent player, a character whose nonexistence fills the space. The work challenges the concept of artistic medium, operating not only on visual, sonic, and temporal planes– but offering a rhythm that is felt in the body.
Maja Ruznic’s The Past Awaiting the Future/Arrival of Drummers (2023)
Maja Ruznic, “The Past Awaiting the Future/Arrival of Drummers,” 2023. Oil on linen, 99 1/2 × 151 1/2 × 2 1/2 in. (252.7 × 384.8 × 6.4 cm). Collection of the artist. © Maja Ruznic. Courtesy Karma. Photograph by Brad Trone, courtesy of the Whitney.
Ruznic’s large-scale paintings are an impactful, colorful breath of air. The painter uses striking color in the background and foreground, inviting the viewer to untangle the visuals for as long as they’d like. There’s always a new limb or eye or layer to be discovered, the closer you look.
Suzanne Jackson’s Rag-To-Wobble (2021)
Suzanne Jackson, “Rag-To-Wobble,” 2021. Acrylic, curtain lace, shredded mail, produce bag netting and wood, 65 x 84 x 4 in. (165.1 x 213.4 x 10.2 cm), courtesy of The Whitney.
Southern artist Suzanne Jackson’s suspended sculptures created from dried paint appear to slither and melt before the viewer’s eyes, but not in a way that inspires tragedy or even anxiety. They’re playful, flexible, and alive. Parts of them are translucent, other parts gloriously colorful– even otherworldly. The name Rag-To-Wobble is about ragtime, dancing, and the wobbly quality of the work itself.
