If everyone could see inside your head right now, what thoughts would be laid bare? Amy Culter’s incredible cross section shows one woman’s mental map as a series of bizarre dreams, from a scary, hostage-holding snowman to the hilarious notion that our teeth are just the caps worn by a team of ladies nestled shoulder to shoulder in our jaws. (At Leslie Tonkonow Artworks and Projects in Chelsea through June 30th).
Saya Woolfalk continues to imagine life in a utopic community of culturally hybridized beings with her new series of colorful sculpture, video and collage at Chelsea’s Leslie Tonkonow Artworks & Projects. In this lush corner installation, a meditating figure in fantastical priestly garb holds minerals that supposedly release the power of greater empathy. (Through Feb 28th).
Saya Woolfalk, ChimaTEK: Virtual Reality Station, mixed media installation with video, 108 x 91 x 19 ½, 2015.
DNA testing and genealogical research led New-York based artist Laurel Nakadate to distant relations, who she photographed in thirty-one U.S. states over the last two years. A selection of seventeen photos on view at Chelsea’s Leslie Tonkonow Artworks and Projects, including this detail from a picture of ‘Tyler’ in Texas, were taken outside at night, setting an uncertain stage for a visit from a stranger. (through June 29th).
Laurel Nakadate, ‘Tyler, Texas #1’, from the Relations series, type-C print, 2013.
Known for her meticulous drawings of cult-like, all-female communities engaged in mysterious tasks, Amy Cutler explores the individual identities of select characters in ‘Brood,’ her latest solo show at Leslie Tonkonow in Chelsea. Her subjects range from beatific to stern, with this Nordic blond character falling somewhere in between. (Through March 9th).
Amy Cutler, Magda, gouache on paper, 2011.
Laurel Nakadate cried every day of 2010. And whether she was in her apartment, in an airplane lavatory or on a beach, she captured the result in 365 photographs, meant to document her effort, as she put it, to “deliberately take part in sadness.” Contrary to this suggestion of shared unhappiness, however, the images portray her in isolation. Often nude or semiclothed, she plays the role of a vulnerable woman needing rescue, appearing to offer her body in a compromised sexual exchange for attention. Sensational, narcissistic, yet incisively illuminating in some respects, Nakadate’s project is an uncomfortable portrait of alienation.
It also tests our willingness to indulge in so much self-inflicted pain. The seasons and the artist’s travels introduce a minor narrative arc, but there’s no resolution to her misery. Unlike Tehching Hsieh’s yearlong performances tracking the effects of self-imprisonment, or Eleanor Antin’s photo diary of being on a diet, Nakadate undergoes no transformation and promotes no politics, personal or otherwise. And unlike the lovelorn Sophie Calle’s exhaustive investigation of a Dear John letter, there is no catharsis.
Instead, the act of repetition dominates, and the mind wanders to questions about Nakadate and her motives: How does she make herself cry? Is she merely acting? What goes on off-camera: Does she happily go about her day until the requisite moment to shed tears? Part of “365 Days” is on view at MoMA PS1, where the photographs are huge, implying an unwarranted monumentality to the artist’s questionably authentic emotion. Even in this more modest installation of smaller-size prints in a tight grid arrangement, Nakadate is still center stage, limiting any possible commentary on collective grief or widespread disaffection.
Originally published in Time Out New York, issue 815, June 2-8, 2011.
