Gillian Wearing’s now classic video of herself dancing uninhibitedly in a London shopping arcade in 1994 – causing discomfort with the idea of turning public into private space – is precedent setting in the International Center of Photography’s group show ‘Public, Private, Secret,’ which considers how identity is created both openly and in secret. (Through Jan 8, 2017).
British artist Gary Hume made his name by painting hospital doors like these in the 90s, as England controversially debated public vs private health care. Here, he had doors constructed that lead in to a second gallery housing attractive glossy enamel paintings featuring disquieting subjects, including versions of an off center wheel derived from a sniper’s sight that reference conflict in Iraq. (At Matthew Marks’ 522 W. 22nd Street location through Dec 21st.)
Gary Hume, Installation view of ‘The Wonky Wheel,’ at Matthew Marks Gallery. Wheel: The Wonky Wheel (Red), enamel on aluminum, 2013. Door: How to Paint a Door, gallery door, 2013.
Photos of Texas death-row prisoners’ last meals, giant prints of dead insects and sculptures of diseased flowers (titled, for instance, after a poem from Baudelaire’s Fleurs du Mal or a U.K. waste-management company) confirm that original Young British Artist Mat Collishaw still traffics in sensation. Surprisingly, the most gratuitous subject—the last meals—proves to be the most thought-provoking, despite the fact that it, too, reflects Collishaw’s fondness for grotesquery.
Collishaw rightly calculates that our morbid fascination will attract us to these photos of french fries, steak, cinnamon rolls and other repasts, dimly lit to recall Dutch still-life painting, but mainly looking gray and unappetizing. Still, evoking this last moment of pleasure does create twinges of sympathy for the condemned, whose orders range from a dish of yogurt to a heaving pile of food.
Vitrines of waxy-looking, boil-covered, meat-pink amaryllis, lilies and other flora growing in toxic soil are so blatantly gross that they kill any such nuance of feeling. A video animating decaying flowers buzzing with flies in a comically misty dead forest does a bit more than the sculptures to suggest the dark enchantment hinted at in Baudelaire’s title, but setting the flatscreen behind an 18th-century altarpiece seems like a mere ploy to stir the pot with a tangential religious reference. Collishaw gets it right when he mines the contradictions in humanity’s capacity for base thoughts and actions. But when he simply represents it, he produces more of the same.
