I finally made to the Greater New York exhibit at P.S.1; I tried to go on the day it opened, but it was too crowded (the line went around the block) with people that were trying to be as hip as me (or was I trying to be as hip as them? It's so depressing when you are finally confronted with the fact that you are a "type" and you find yourself staring at rows and rows of youngsters, or youngster wannabe's, wearing your same glasses, sporting your same platinum blond frizz, and same 70's jacket, etc). Anyway, back to the topic at hand: I loved the exhibit, although, in all fairness, it could have also been titled, "There's something about Mushrooms", or, "Hello, Dali". Most of the pieces spoke to me in a kinda, "That's neat, I like that," sort of way, although by the end I was experiencing a definite surreal yet child-like, clever, kitschy plaque build-up, and I had to go brush my teeth. The stress was on biomorphic forms, and sometimes the artists were so similar I had to check and recheck the placards to make sure they weren't the same person. Some of what's become the "new" old guard was there, such as Beth Peyton, who I saw at the Brooklyn Museum's Perogi 2000 exhibit about three years ago. My all time favorite, which inspired to write about the exhibit, and perhaps even in a more formal way on my review page, was Jocelyn Shipley's, "Creep in the Cellar." I first thought this was two separate installations, including "Cumpromise," since there were two separate spinning pieces, red and yellow, but I found out, after reading the www.ps1.org website, that I had missed the "Cumpromise" videotape. Here is a photo of "Creep..." which might give you some idea of the experience: Even without the relating video and Shipley's description of her work, I found "Creep..." so compelling on a visceral and profound level. It was one of the few installations that really worked for me there, or ever, although Ethan Crowes' video of ping-pong balls and mousetraps was pretty extraordinary in the way it created tension. I will try to relate my experience of Shipley's work: first I descended the dark, somewhat enclosed slate basement steps and heard wind and a woman's voice moaning and singing unintelligibly. Then I saw the metal partition of the bathroom wall with what looked like a disco ball flashing yellow and crimson light underneath the stall door. There was also a moving yellow gummy mass poking out from underneath. I walked into the bathroom of shimmering lights and saw two rotating masses of similar size and shape, although somewhat different in composition. One of the, well, it was sort of like an enormous string/pile of bright yellow...shit, had typically girly feminine objects of vanity poking out through the shiny mass; a tiny radio, hair curlers, christmas lights, as well as macaroni, etc. The other was dark red, and had at least one dead rat painted red and stuck on to it. It had a less girly and more menancing appearance. Both, uh, globs, had radios incorporated that played continuous haunting loops. The bathroom was dark except for the red and yellow lights shining on the masses, and except for lights IN them. Both things were hung before the bathroom sink, in front of the mirror. The effect on me was just phenomenal. I just kept thinking, this is it, this is just what it's like to be a woman, and going back to the space again and again. I felt it was all about being grossed out by "the creep in the cellar" (which is very close to a Butthole Surfers song, "The Creep in the Basement'" I found out on the Web) which can refer to being molested by someone (perhaps a family member, who turns into someone else, the creep, when you are being violated) or to your own body -- especially the nether regions (the cellar) -- and how disgusting its processes can be: menstruation, weight gain, and sticky fluids. I believe the fact that the masses looked like shit and vomit and were in front of bathroom mirrors suggests that the artist was referring both to women's tendency to experience and see their bodies as shit, and their tendency to try to vomit and purge that image away. At the same time, the haunting sexual moans were almost pornographic in their pretended intensity, referring to the dichotomy (not just red/yellow) but self/other women experience in trying to be, or present themselves as sexy for men, when they experience themselves as ugly messes -- the whole "Do you think I'm fat?" dilemma. Red and yellow suggest two humours, blood and bile, that were believed to build up and cause emotional and physical maladies. The medieval solution was also bloodletting and purging. Perhaps Shipley was both consummating and critiquing this paradigm for herself. (Stole that last line from a book on Thomas Mann, but I've always wanted to use it.) home more pictures