The Public's Right to Own

We've gone a few rounds in the discussions here on whether artists still control the irony in their work...that is, whether they can control the irony the viewer sees in it, regardless of how sincere they were in offering it. Bambino and I had the pleasure of spending some time with New York contemporary art's extraordinarily well-versed couple, James Wagner and Barry Hoggard, last weekend, and Barry described an exhibition in which the imagery looked as if it were a social commentary on fashion appropriation by Brooklyn hipsters. In learning more about the artist, however, he discovered the work was not about today, but was indeed sincerely about the first time those fashions had been popular. We discussed how this illustrated the point about irony being out of the artist's hands. 20th Century art had trained us to at least suspect irony/appropriation in almost everything.

Lately, however, I've begun to sense a growing assertion that not even the imagery of an artist is in their hands. The argument seems to be that once an image is put out there, the public has some rights to it. The public has a right to own, in some way, the images it endorses/cherishes/supports. (I can hear the steam pouring out the ears of copyright lawyers across the planet.)

Two upcoming exhibitions explore this assertion to various degrees. One I'm not at liberty to reveal just yet, but I'll try to sketch what's important about it in this context without giving too much away. The other has released a press release and so is grist for our mill.

The one we can discuss is at the always-two-steps-ahead not-for-profit Harlem space Triple Candie (see image at top for installation view). Despite years of asking, the space could not get elusive Harlem-based artist David Hammon to agree to exhibit there (he only exhibits in blue-chip galleries and none of his dealers or close collectors would lend his work for an exhibition). So, in the spirit of exploring "how the strategic process of ascribing value to an artist's work---by galleries, collectors, curators, even artists---changes the art's relationship to the public," Triple Candie is presenting an "unauthorized" retrospective of David Hammon...one that will not, however, include any of his actual work. Artnet.com explains:

With nearly 100 items, the show is the most comprehensive ever of Hammons’ work -- but it features no actual art, only photocopies and computer printouts taken from previously published catalogues, exhibitions brochures and websites. According to Triple Candie director Peter Nesbett, the show is meant as a populist attempt to share Hammons’ work with a local audience. Hammons, who is notoriously enigmatic and aloof, rarely exhibits his work, Nesbett says, and when it does it’s at blue-chip galleries, not in the neighborhood. Since it opened in 2001, Triple Candie has tried to interest Hammons in doing a show at the space, without success.

In some other venue's hands, I might be a bit suspect of this argument, but knowing and totally trusting directors Shelly Bancroft and Peter Nesbett, as I do, I'm more than a little intrigued by this idea.

The other exhibition, which is I believe still seeking a home, also explains its use of another artist's imagery with a populist defense (as soon as details are shareable about this one, I'll post them). In this instance, however, no attempts have been made to convince the artist to participate. The effort is a commentary on how this target artist's work is so pervasive and influential that essentially the public owns it as much as the artist does.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating for this second exhibition, I'm sure, but two independently organized populist efforts like this do begin to make my antennae twitch.