"ALTERNATING CURRENTS: American Art in the Age of Technology"
San Jose Museum of Art
October 18, 1997–October 18, 1998
http://www.sjmusart.org/AlternatingCurrents

"ALTERNATING CURRENTS," the third of five planned collaborations between
San Jose Museum of Art and New York's Whitney Museum, contains nearly 60
artworks incorporating technology, arranged in three thematic groups:
"Industry and Consequence," or art that is concerned with technology
without being "high tech"; "Challenging Perceptions," works exploring
what Robert Irwin called "the shape of perception"; and "Message and
Narrative," artworks that incorporate temporal elements.

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A Conversation on "ALTERNATING CURRENTS"
by Sonya Rapoport and Barbara Lee Williams

Sonya Rapoport: Upon entering these ambient galleries, I experienced an
almost religious calm in anticipation of vicariously recreating the
birth of art and technology "by the grace" of the venerable Whitney.
However, my reverence soon dissolved into reevaluation as I found myself
clicking "ON/OFF" rather than switching to "AlternatingCurrents."

Barbara Lee Williams: It seems that the main gallery of the show
disappointed you! I admit the placement of [Claes] Oldenberg's giant
undulating icebag front and center was more sentimental than
stimulating. And I remain unimpressed by Tom Otterness's enormous bronze
"The Tables," (1986-87) which scarcely lives up to the curatorial
promise of "communicating the perils" of technology. But Lewis Baltz's
installed photo sequence on suburban development is both provocative and
very beautiful–and, unlike the Otterness, lucidly addresses a
post-industrial issue, specifically, the destruction of our natural
environment.

SR: The Baltz is as elegant in its accordance as the Otterness is ugly
in its discordance. However, Rauchenberg's "Autobiography" (1967), is a
classic and wonderful "consequence" of "Industry." This print is an
early experiment in advanced photo-lithograph processes; its subjective
content is formally arranged in a vertical triptych of three circles,
one above each other, representing Rauchenberg's astrological chart, his
thumb print, and an obliquely opened umbrella from his performance piece
"Pelican."

BLW: It is striking, especially the whimsical image of Rauschenberg in
which he seems about to take flight. What did you think of the side
galleries dedicated, respectively, to electronically altered perception,
and technology in narrative?

SR: Next in thematic order is the gallery containing "Challenging
Perceptions" in which light and space along with those "electronically
altered" devices, play on our perceptions. Robert Irwin's seminal "No
Title" (1966-67), a translucent disk with projected circles of light is
certainly appropriate here but seems a bit tame. However, it becomes
revitalized when perceived within the context of his latest installation
of perceptually dissolving walls at the Dia Center. Flavin is also an
appropriate choice, and his pastel grid of emanating flourescent tubes
that camouflage a corner of the room is a refreshing delight. And Ronald
Mallory's box of pulsating mercury (from 1966-67) is unexpected, but
fits quite well here. Do you wish to shed anymore "light" on this
section?

BLW: It's true, some of the earlier works lack dynamism. But, as you
note, the Flavin, executed in 1977, remains vibrant and ethereal, and
James Turrell's "Shanta" from 1967–which projects xenon light to create
a floating rectangle and thus transforms our perception of the small
blue-grey room that holds it–remains potent after three decades. I like
the power Turrell's piece has over me: the glowing form seems so
tangible I have to resist the urge to cross the room and touch it.

SR: We are all intrigued by "magic."

BLW: But what did you think of Buky Schwartz's "Yellow Triangle" (1979)?

SR: I was struck by the early simplicity of this interactive format that
shortly thereafter flooded the art media. Buky Schwartz managed to
manipulate my perception of space as I watched myself disappear into the
yellow triangle on the video screen while in actuality I was encompassed
by its two-dimensional painting on the wall. Shigeko Kubota's
"Meta-Marcel" (1976) also made a strong statement by replacing Duchamp's
leather window panels with the TV screens depicting dense, colored,
falling snow. Satisfied, I turned my back to get out of the winter storm
and noticed the hands of Alan Rath's "Info Glut II" waving to me from
across the next gallery.

BLW: These works, "Meta-Marcel," "Yellow Triangle," and even Irwin's
"NoTitle," seem united in their straightforward celebration of
technology in art. Schwartz teases us with technology; Irwin makes a
dramatic, minimalist statement with it, while Kubota underlines
technology's potential for beauty and delicacy (also, while Duchamp's
piece seemed to close out the world; Kubota's is welcoming). The
impression of the whole is dramatically different from the first gallery
where various artists warned us of the dire consequences of technology.
Now, you mention Rath's "Info Glut II" (1997)–an intriguing piece. Tell
me what you thought.

SR: I was attracted by the gesticulating hands of Rath's "Info Glut II"
that beckoned to me from the Message and Narrative Gallery. It is
significant that I say "by the gesticulating hands of" rather than "into
the gesticulating hands of" because something was stopping me here–and
during this visit I had been adjusting myself to accepting an earlier
less interactive "state of the art" of art and technology. Then I
realized that I subconciously interpreted the raised hand as signalling
to stop. "Info Glut II" is anthropomorphic work with a monitor head,
wire arms, and video hands that are continuously speaking in sign
language. The work intends to convey by title and by sign the
superfluous information of this information age. The arcane message was
communicated to me because I was stopped in my tracks. However, I found
"Info Glut II" two-dimensional and static in spite of its electronic
wizardry. In contrast, Kubota's severe snow storm was very
three-dimensional and alive.

BLW: I agree that Rath's piece, while visually engaging, seems not fully
realized. Given its subject, I expected noise of some sort to emanate
from the bright red, constantly moving mouth. And perhaps this work
suffers by its placement next to the two fascinating sculptures by Tony
Oursler. Oursler"s "Crying Doll, Flowered," (1993) and "Underwater
Head," (1997) are stunningly effective syntheses of video projections,
miscellaneous soft materials–and sound! The two pocket-sized works are
uncannily human (with just a touch of "other") and the burbling sound is
essential to their sense of life.

SR: Tony Oursler records live sound very effectively from actual
incidences that are similar in emotion to what his sculptures convey.
His work is both soft and tough in that it is right on the mark–nothing
extraneous. It touches you in a feminine way.

BLW: Originally this section was dominated by Nam June Paik's
wonderful–and very large –"portrait" of art dealer Howard Wise
composed of video screens, phones and art memorabilia. The piece was
silent but a masterful presence. It was removed and replaced by Tony
Oursler's life-sized piece, "Getaway #2" (1994) which shouts rudely at
visitors ("Hey You! I said Hey You! What are ya lookin' at?") and
totally dominates the gallery. Jenny Holtzer's "Unex sign #1" (1983)
seems understated in comparison.

SR: Holtzer is just plain tough. I think that vibes were wired from Alan
Rath's "Info Glut II" to this piece of over-information. I excitedly
read her work as a book because of the layered panels. This excitement
was short-lived, however, when the words didn't flow from one panel to
the next.

BLW: Several of the artists in this last gallery–Oursler, Holtzer,
Paik–have created art that reflects upon technology but is more
profoundly focused on life. This is a nice contrast to the celebration
of technology for its own sake in the second or "challenging
perceptions" gallery, and to the rather dire warnings in the opening
selection of works.

SR: The closing piece for "Message and Narrative" is Joel Slayton's
"digital information technology, dimensions variable" (1997) in which
the shape of the final work is created by the visitors. Slayton, one of
the younger artists included here, couples real and virtual
installations. In a location where the museum architecture and garden
are viewed through glass doors, Slayton has installed three monitors
that mirror the virtual counterparts of this scene. A small cube rests
nearby for the viewer to manipulate. This playful activity is
transcribed as xy coordinates on a computer for graphical display on the
screen.

BLW: As one of only two interactive pieces in the show, this truly is of
the present, and looks to the future–with a nod back to computer art. I
just wish the different elements of the piece were better looking!
Located at the end of this long gallery, the work left us on a
threshold–of what I'm not exactly sure, but I think we'll be back to
find out.

SR: I'd say it was the threshhold of more technological "magic" as found
in enlightening collaborations between museums like this one between San
Jose and the Whitney.

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Sonya Rapoport is an artist. Barbara Lee Williams is an art critic. This
review originally appeared in LEONARDO.