Photo: Glenn Kaino, Invisible Man, 2016, aluminum and concrete, 381 x 178 x 178 cm, courtesy of Kavi Gupta
“It was the height of the space race in 1969, when David Bowie’s legendary Major Tom took his protein pills and put his helmet on. But even the world’s most advanced technology could not protect him from our human vulnerability,” Nicholas Baume, Director and Chief Curator of Public Art Fund, New York, writes in the curator’s statements for Ground Control, the Public sector of Art Basel in Miami Beach.
Also: The Full Showcase of Stories for Art Basel in Miami Beach
He continues, “The idea of ‘Ground Control’ struck me as apt this year, the year that Bowie himself departed our physical orbit for good, leaving his myth and music to ensure. The relationship between technological progress and human subjectivity continues to be an animating concern for artists, but our fascination with outer space has largely been replaced by an exploration on virtual space.”
Glenn Kaino, Invisible Man, 2016, aluminum and concrete, 381 x 178 x 178 cm, courtesy of Kavi Gupta
Well, not quite—as Jeff Bezos and his company, Blue Origin, have emerged as pioneers in the realm of rocket travel, with their eye on Mars. But, that’s a couple of decades in the future, so for now, we shall keep both feet firmly planted on the ground. Or even raised above, placed on a pedestal with both hands raised over head.
Invoking the mantra, “Hands up, don’t shoot!” that was the rallying cry after the extrajudicial killing of Mike Brown on August 9, 2014, American artist Glenn Kaino has created Invisible Man (2016, courtesy of Kavi Gupta), with a nod to Ralph Ellison’s 1952 novel of the same name. Much in the same way that many people will claim, “I don’t see color,” Ellison’s novel was a testament to this: to the very invisibility of being black in white America, and the Kafka-like pathology it invokes.
Kaino’s Invisible Man has two sides. From behind, it is a mirror, reflecting all in its path, flat as the day is long, simply a manifestation of what is projected upon it. From the front, it is an entirely different affair, being constructed of concrete, rendered in three dimensions, giving it weight, heft, and shape. The figure stands before the Bass Museum, which bears the words “ETERNITY NOW” on its pediment. It is a sad, somber affair, one of surrender—but to what? To the corrupt system we live under? Or something more insidious?
Erwinn Wurm, Big Disobedience, 2016. Aluminum, paint. Part 1: 200 x 101 x 101 cm. Part 2: 206 x 105 x 110 cm. Courtesy of Lehmann Maupin
Invisible Man finds itself in conversation with Austrian artist Erwin Wurm’s Big Disobedience (2016, courtesy of Lehmann Maupin), a pair of headless and handless white collar men in casual grey suits and shapeless footwear, dancing like drunks at the company holiday party, awkward yet aggressively off beat and slurring the lyrics brazenly. You can easily imagine red caps on their heads or giggling about how they voted for Harambe. The artist reveals he was inspired by Henry David Thoreau’s 1949 essay Civil Disobedience, but there’s nothing civil going on here. Perhaps this is what it has come to: disobedience is no longer noble; it is simply trolling.
Yoan CaUrbana, 2012. Bronze, 7.6 x 142.2 x 53.5 cm. Courtesy of Jack Shainman Gallery.
A bit further on is Cuban artist Yoan Capote’s Naturaleza Urbana (2012, courtesy of Jack Shainman), a pair of large bronze handcuffs locks a sapling to a mature tree. The work speaks to the human attempts to dominate nature, which go against reality, most assuredly are backfiring each and every day. As bizarre as the cuffs appear, so are our practices, which are having tumultuous effect on the environment. But, as with the facts which continue to surround us, most will simply pay it no mind until it is too late; such are the misfortunes of a life spent under the illusions of cognitive dissonance.
David Adamo\, Untitled, 2014. Papier-mache, feathers, plastic, 13 x 20 x 6.5 cm, courtesy of Peter Freeman
But—all is not lost in this world. A new generation brings hope, or at least the unfortunate reality that they shall inherit our mistakes and be charged to solve them. So learning begins at the earliest age: when they are cognizant of their surroundings and able to engage and interact with them in a reasoned way. American artist David Adamo has created Untitled (2014, courtesy of Peter Freeman), a series of small cedar plinths that are low to the ground, perfectly sized for small children who are learning to find their way around. Into this landscape he has scattered small objects that we might consider detritus at best, like citrus peels and coffee cups, just the sort of things kids love to pick up and put in their mouths. They’re not that different from grown folks, when you think about it.
All photos: © Miss Rosen
Miss Rosen is a New York-based writer, curator, and brand strategist. There is nothing she adores so much as photography and books. A small part of her wishes she had a proper library, like in the game of Clue. Then she could blaze and write soliloquies to her in and out of print loves.
