Washington, DC Art News

On June 1, the National Portrait Gallery is launching its first nationwide portrait competition, borrowing an idea from its British counterpart. Photography isn't being allowed in. But even if some truly interesting painting or sculpture emerges when the winners are announced next year, it's hard to see how it could touch the hermetic world of official portraiture. Unless a picture looks a fair bit like the portraiture that's come before, it doesn't fill the peculiar social and political roles its patrons have in mind for it.

All this discussion of lies and faked photos as art immediately reminded me of the career of Darko Maver.

As discussed here, Maver was supposed to have based his work on using various sculpting materials to painstakingly re-create crime scenes and murders he'd seen in photos. The pieces were so obsessively crafted and "life"-like that they were nearly indiscernable from the actual scenes he recreated. The audience only ever saw his work in the form of photographs, so presentations of his work wound up looking like collections of forensic and medical photos.

As it turns out, that's exactly what they were. A couple of neoists had found a bunch of grim photos, re-imagined them as images of re-creations, created a compelling life story for their artist, and presented it all to the unknowing public. Not that this is going on here, necessarily.

But it's interesting to me that, years after the Maver thing, there's an artist out there who's actually put in the man-hours to make a more audience-friendly version of the same point. And I can't help but wonder whether Demand's work achieves or conveys anything that "Maver's" work did not. I suppose I should see the show.

"The rise of curators and "super-curators" hasn't come out of the blue. Twentieth-century modernist conceptions of art-making presupposed the need for a class of specialist professionals to mediate between "advanced", "challenging" artists and lay gallery-goers. In the past decade or so, however, the balance of power has tipped so emphatically towards curatorship that many canny artists have opted to reinvent themselves as part- or even full-time curators."

Corcoran Fiscal Mess: Blame Management not the Building

By Rex Weil

David Levy describes the Corcoran Gallery of Art as more like a church than a business (Washington Post 5/20/05). Insensitive types who insist on examining the books just don’t understand.

Is it Levy’s contention that churches don’t need strategic plans, sound budgets, fair employment practices and transparent accounting procedures?

In fact, the Corcoran’s director wants it both ways. After all, he hauls in a CEO salary in the neighborhood of $300,000, while most of his employees makes less that $50K and the vast majority far less, with few or no benefits. Obfuscatory accounting practices -- that would make Enron execs blush -- have bled the Corcoran College to make the Museum look healthy. Sounds more like a business to me -- just not a very good one.

Levy’s strategic plan: Treat your major constituencies (members, students, employees and faculty) with contempt and buy your way out of problems with a celebrity building. Well, it might have worked, but it hasn’t. As the Corcoran’s new Board Chairman learned recently "support for the Corcoran is 'superficial.'"

Meaning (I suppose), that, although everyone would like to see the Corcoran succeed, most people (a) just don't feel like they have a stake in it; and/or (b) are disappointed with current management. Let’s face it: practically everybody in Washington knows someone who has left the Corcoran in frustration or disgust. (I left in December, 2004 after teaching there since 1996). That’s bound to have a major snowball effect in terms of community support.

What Levy has apparently failed to grasp from the beginning: You have to build support from the bottom up with good programs and good relationships. Build the base – with satisfied, dedicated employees, enthusiastic students and their proud families, members invested in ambitious programming, and a committed long-term faculty advancing the institution. Those folks are, in turn, your best fundraisers.

Instead, (according to the Washington Post), the Corcoran has spent over 22 million on the Gehry addition. One way or another, a good deal of that 22 million has come out of the hide of students and their families, employees, faculty and admission paying visitors in poor facilities, shameful employment practices and dreary programming. All in all, the institution’s core constituencies are bitter and alienated.

It didn’t have to be that way. The building was not a bad idea. But running the institution into the ground with the idea that the Gehry magic would eventually save the day – that was a very bad idea, indeed.

The Gehry building can only come to pass as a reward to the institution from committed, grateful constituencies for work well done over a long period of time. No, it is not going to pay for itself by generating new money from new visitors. Like the Hard Rock Café – every city will have one. Of course, the tour buses will slow down and point it out. What’s inside the building is the important part. That’s the part the Corcoran has neglected.

New management might still be able to make a case for the building. David Levy can’t.

"Hazel said he and fellow trustee Paul Corddry approached President and Director David C. Levy earlier this week and suggested he offer his resignation"

The Postmodern Art Joke of Suffering

By James W. Bailey

The jokes in the world of high art often write themselves. Indeed, we were recently treated to the rare spectacle of an immensely funny postmodern art joke with artist Melissa Ichiuji, as reported in the Washington Post article, "Calling a Halt to Suffering for Her Art."

Ichiuji, who was suppposed to stand in the semi-buff in front of the Corcoran Gallery of Art for 36 straight hours, was forced to call a 14 hour early halt to her "non-performance" piece "Stripped" after nearly collapsing from heat exhaustion from excessive exposure to the balmy weather as enhanced and amplified by the unnatural elements of Washington, D.C. concrete and asphalt.

Mrs. Ichiuji supposedly shed herself of the excesses of her life (Starbucks, NetFlix, Whole Foods, Politics and Prose, those types of things I guess) in an attempt to explore something about who she really is outside of the unnatural products that she takes into her body and mind.

We are told in this supremely funny high profile Washington Post article that her only company prior caving in to upper middle class reality was a homeless man who lay down nearby to watch Mrs. Ichiuji struggle through her "non-performance" in all her sunburned and diarrhea-stricken agony – no doubt the homeless man could identify with that low profile real life struggle.

We’re also told Mrs. Ichiuji tried to contact her husband for emergency rescue from her plight. Apparently, her husband never bothered to return the desperate messages that were left on his cell phone. It’s also reported that one of the other luxuries in life that Mrs. Ichiuji swore off for her art was sex – I guess that might help explain the husband’s failure to respond to those text messages.

Although her husband is a banker, poor Mrs. Ichiuji, apparently penniless (I guess her sports bar didn’t have a change holder), was forced to thumb a ride in a cab back to the modern comforts and conveniences of her home. That must have been an interesting cab ride. One can easily picture Mrs. Ichiuji, half-starved, jumping out of the cab at every delicious chain restaurant in the District begging the management to freely inhale at will from the salad bar.

Now, nobody loathes postmodern art theory and theorists more than I do, but I just can’t help but deconstruct Mrs. Ichiuji "Stripped" to discover a greater truth and meaning about her project. There's a remarkable parallel between her self-imposed bodily denials leading to her near collapse and the refusal of a banker to assist her with the similar bodily denials (usually state enforced against the will of the child and their parents) that are found among hundreds of millions of impoverished children throughout the world and the refusal of the World Bank to assist them.

But unlike Mrs. Ichiuji, those kids don’t have a cell phone to call a high ranking bank official, let alone the ability to hitch a ride in an air-conditioned cab to a safe, cool and well-stocked abode.

James W. Bailey
Experimental Photographer
Force Majeure Studios

By Mark Jenkins

I'm wondering if anyone else has found Melissa Ichiuji's "36 hours" a little unsettling in its aftermath.

Weening herself from cellphones, and TV, etc... I can see as a return to a more animal nature. I'm all for that. As for fasting, and cutting off social contact with friends, peeing in public, that's where it gets a little gray.

While the peeing part might be animal (I suppose), cutting off social contact while sitting on a corner on a platform and not talking to anyone seems to make yourself like an animal at the zoo with people gawking at you.

I too, came by, maybe to gawk, or to watch other people gawking; and anything done outside in the name of art outside (physically at least) of the institutions always gets my curiousity up. But upon arriving I discovered that she had left.

Just a note that said that she was ill. She'd left and taken her pee jars with her!

And in the aftermath, in my own comic way that amuses me if no one else, I sat on her empty perch and ate a hot dog, and when a few people came up and asked where she was I responded, "She's sick."



They looked a little concerned, disheartened, and sweaty (like me) after having made the walk over from their workplaces.

Ultimately, I think she's a caricature of our own inner selves who, seeing the ever increasing trash of technology, turns its absence into a treasure. But the catch is that even while seeking it you can't seek it purely.

One of Dostoevsky's characters said something profound once that I remembered. Something to the extent that modern man has become diffuse in his thoughts; he can no longer think a sole thought but always has several competing interests to contend with.

Buddhist monks would agree. And I'm sure probably wouldn't have given her a high chance at reaching any sort of success in this small amount of time. And of course there was the congential defect in her mission, that even while she fasted, and weened, her website blinked, (and blinks now) about Washington Post coverage and in the back of her mind, she was thinking...

The Montgomery County Council voted yesterday to strip County Executive Douglas M. Duncan (D) of his power to distribute millions of dollars in grants to arts organizations in the fiscal 2006 budget, saying the process has become too entangled in politics.

"Tim Tate is a third generation Washingtonian and the city's premier glass artist..."

Please submit a CD of up to 20 jpeg images along with a resume, image list (title, medium, size, and date), a short statement and/or cover letter. If you are proposing a group exhibition please include resumes by all artists involved.

Please do not send slides. Submitted materials will not be returned. The reviewing process should take 6 – 8 weeks. We will contact you if we would like to see additional materials.

Submissions should be mailed to:

Jack Rasmussen, Director and Curator
American University Museum
at the Katzen Art Center
4400, Massachusetts Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20016

"Alfred Stieglitz has often been credited with dragging photography into the realm of the fine arts, and I think that now the time is ripe for courageous contemporary artists to once and for all bring glass out of the realm of craft and into the rarified world of fine art.

And like the many other genres of art that we automatically accept as "fine art," without questions of craft or segregation to "glass only galleries," content is one of the ideal concepts that empower art beyond technical skill and visual beauty. It is through content that today's artists working this demanding media are dragging glass into the realm of the fine arts.

About time."

Riiiiing, Riiiing!

Bored Gallerist: "Hello, Snobby Gallery"

JT: "Good afternoon, my name is JT Kirkland and I'd like to discuss my artwork to see if your gallery would have some interest in seeing some slides and reviewing the work?"

Bored Gallerist: "Tell me about it..."

JT: "Well... it's very minimalist"

Bored Gallerist (slightly interested): "Good... we like minimalism"

JT (a little excited): "I know, I researched that and thought that my work would fit in with your gallery's focus. So anyway, my artwork is on wood where I then drill patterns so that the finished piece is simply a piece of wood with a series of holes in it."

Bored Gallerist (back to being aloof): "Oh... holes in wood?"

Thomas Paine vs. Blake Gopnik

By Mark Jenkins

I admit I didn't make it through Gopnik's whole read.

I kept thinking of what a "common sense" decision it was for the Corcoran to do such a thing. And that got me to thinking about Thomas Paine's Common Sense: "these are the times that try men's souls..." the impassioned pamphlet (or memo if you will) that helped ignite the American Revolution.

And then I saw the irony since Gopnik has talked this same talk: "With so much courtly dissolution on show in art these days, you have to wonder if a revolution isn't due. And if it comes, will Whitmore put his classy talents at the service of the rebels?"

This is from Ian Whitmore's review at the Fusebox. Another review I read of his talked about awaiting the next artquake and I sent him a link to Banksy's pranks in NYC. No reply.

What I have noticed is that the Corcoran is doing art out on the street. I saw a chalk drawing on the sidewalk by a student, and this upcoming piece Stripped, ditto.

Instead of getting a Gehry addition (zzzz....) the Corcoran might do better to take the top off the museum, pave a road through it and let the students do street art. I'm sure the students would perk up at the idea.

Really, DC has enough museums; It is a museum Mecca.

And they're all conveniently located on the National Mall so that tourists never have to set foot outside it. If it wasn't for the National Zoo tourists probably wouldnt travel further North than the White House.

That being the case, even if the Corcoran gets hyper trendy with photography, gets a Gehry piece, it may still atrophy just because its just a few feet too far removed from the Mall and you have to pay to get in.

Mostly for me though, the Corcoran is known for their revolutionary school, and so to me its a school first and a museum second. Corcoran is also the only museum where a local artist has a shot at getting works on display. Turn it into a photography museum and await an Ansel Adam's show? Well, the Corcoran might hang on and survive but I don't think it will be birthing any "artquakes." But I don't think Gopnik looks to DC to do anything for the art world, but instead sees it as a container to showcase it. And if the Corcoran takes his advice I think he may be right.

Memo to: Blake Gopnik

Re: I'm a local photographer and I don't do prints!

Blake Gopnik's wickedly cynical and sarcastic memo to the Corcoran Gallery of Art, in which he boldly goes where no man has gone before and outlines its science fiction titanium-clad Frank O. Gehry-future as a tourist-friendly blue-collar-fanfare-for-the-common-man low-art-literate repository of the questionable high art practices of "accessible" photography, almost rises to the level of a comedic masterpiece.

But Gopnik’s clear distaste for throw away representational photography as a legitimate form of high art is glaringly transparent and he’s no doubt very serious; Therefore, the understory of his mildly insulting views about the saccharine appeal of Kodak-moment photos to the non-MFA card carrying uneducated masses are enough to compel a local photographer to respond.

Gopnik says "Because most photographs exist in multiple prints, getting the images you need doesn’t put you at the mercy of a single collection that happens not to lend."

Really?

Perhaps if Gopnik spent more time with his eyes and ears attuned to local photographers (as well as their collectors) he would know that many of us aren’t into the mass-production multiple print aesthetic that he seems to loathe and actually do create one of a kind photographic works of art. But where Gopnik really gets going in his subtle ploy in support of the exhausted arguments declaring the weaknesses of photography as a legitimate art form is having Sarah Greenough, Curator of Photography at the National Gallery of Art, confirm that "casual visitors seem to find photography more ‘approachable’ than more esoteric, and explicitly artistic, media."

From the grassy knoll Gopnik attempts to triangulate the assassination of the legitimacy of photography as a high art form by having Malcolm Daniel of the Met echo that "People don’t feel they need to take an art history course to appreciate photography."

Translation of the above curatorial/art critic conspiratorial drivel: Although the American masses are intellectually incapable of understanding and appreciating the serious challenges of critically celebrated postmodern fine art painting, even the most uneducated illiterate backwoods hard core anti-postmodern-art-hating hillbilly tourist from the most culturally deprived area of the most remote coal mining country of West Virginia can at least enjoy and appreciate looking at a nicely framed photograph of a rock in Yosemite National Park shot by Ansel Adams – in fact, these déclassé trash de blanc Disney World-Florida-vacation-dreaming fools may even be willing to pull cash out of their Wal-Mart purchased Harley-Davidson motorcycle chain wallets to pay for an admittance ticket for the privilege of stepping inside a chrome plated Gehry building so they can drool all over easily accessible patriotic representational photographs of American flags flapping in the breeze over Arlington Cemetery, snap-shot panoramic impressions of purple mountains majesty, and digitally enhanced scenes of mallard ducks floating on a pond in which the polluted waters have been scrubbed blue through the magic of Abode Photoshop, as well as old photographs of just about anything remotely Americana.

This is priceless!

Here we are several years into the 21st Century and the Chief Art Critic from the Washington Post is still questioning the place of photography in the pantheon of great art. It makes me mad enough to want to burn my camera, as well as my film and prints!

But the real joke with Gopnik’s silly proposition is that his opinion is not the one that counts. Frank O. Gehry is the one who signed on to design a new addition to the Corcoran Gallery of Art, not Gopnik. And you can bet the last worthless multiple print in your museum-worthy donor-friendly photographic collection culled from the discount bins of Salvation Army Thrift Stores that Gehry did not sign on to design a tourist-friendly holding area for low brow photographs.

All one has to do is take a very close look at Gehry’s body of architectural work, as well as his definition of art – save yourself a lot of research and understand that Gehry and Gopnik worship at the same high-tech high art painting church - to see whether or not he would ever agree to this photographic scheme.

To Gopnik’s credit, he opens his ridiculously funny piece by informing all what is common knowledge to everyone in the art world, and especially in Washington, D.C.: that being that the Corcoran Gallery of Art has deep problems at every level.

What a shame Gopnik wasted so much space on his trivial vision for the rehabilitation of the prestige of the Corcoran Gallery of Art, rather than detailing the true extent of the Corcoran’s problems and suggesting real solutions.

Gopnik is a creative art critic/writer and can no doubt produce multiple print solutions for the Corcoran all day long – perhaps when he gets serious, he’ll come up with a creative one of a kind photographic image of a solution that everybody will agree is a work of art.


Sincerely,

James W. Bailey
P.S.

Memo to: Dr. David Levy

RE: Corcoran BS Detector – Would You Care to Tell Us What Frank Really Thinks about Blake’s Idea?

Dr. David Levy, President and Director of the Corcoran Gallery of Art, has weighed in with his polite corporate art speak Letter to the Editor to the Washington Post responding to Gopnik’s idea. I’ll weigh in with my Corcoran BS detector and offer the following translation of Levy’s letter, paragraph by paragraph:

We are grateful to Blake Gopnik for his interesting May 1 think piece, "Memo to: The Corcoran; Re: Sharpening Your Focus." His timing is apposite. Over the past few months, task forces composed of our Trustees, Boards of Overseers and staff have been assigned to think creatively about our institution's future.

Translation: We appreciate you attempting to embarrass us with your lame proposal, but as powerful a member of the DC art elite that you are, much more powerful powers (and certainly much bigger donors than you) are calling future programmatic shots right now in order to secure the needed additional funding to get this Gehry thing to the ground breaking stage.

We find Gopnik's suggestion to focus more sharply on a single programmatic area -- in this case, photography -- to be a provocative and interesting idea. And we agree that such an approach could help us strengthen our identity in a city that sometimes seems to have more museums than residents. After all, the Corcoran has a long history of distinguished photography exhibitions and a pioneering tradition of photographic education at its College of Art + Design.

Translation: Some members of the Corcoran’s staff have children; and just like most kids, we also think photographs can be fun, enjoyable and accessible and wouldn’t necessarily object to having more child-like residents of DC walk into our museum to see more accessible photographs, as long as these children can afford to live in the area of the city where museums do indeed out number residents. It might be problematic for us to have certain problematic residents from certain problematic areas of the city that have no museums to flock en mass to the Corcoran to see overly accessible photographs; so, for security reasons we, would naturally under your proposal have to temper that potential problem by keeping the photographic exhibitions accessible, but not too accessible – for example, we probably would not entertain a photography exhibit titled, "The Massacre," that examines a day in the thug life of 50 Cent. We strive to be ‘bout it ‘bout it, as much as possible in a predominately African-American city such as Washington, D.C., but please give us a break and let’s get our board more diversified first. Once we have a board that truly reflects the demographics of Washington, D.C., then we’ll see what we can do increase visitation to the museum among the young DC resident African-American youth members of 50 Cent’s posse and fan club. Although we briefly flirted with the OPTIONS 05 concept of providing a credible exhibition opportunity for area minority and marginalized artists whose works touch on radical, provocative and disturbing themes, concepts and philosophies through the curatorial direction of Philip Barlow, fortunately cooler heads prevailed in the interests of not rocking the DC government approved TIF (Tax Increment Financing) district for the Gehry project (I think we fired his ass), and, although we know it’s a cop out, we’ll all now look forward to the new OPTIONS 05 curator Libby Lumpkin’s safe choices of predominately white MFA graduate students who are recycling ad infinitum non-confrontational imagery served up by the more easily digestible forms of minimalism that are perfectly suited for display in museums like the Corcoran, but also in the marble foyers of McMansions in Northern Virginia.

In fact, there was an effort some five years ago to establish a National Museum of Photography on the old convention center site, based on the great photography collection amassed by Howard Gilman. When this plan did not materialize, we proposed that the Gilman Foundation join us in the creation of a National Photography Center at the Corcoran, housed in our new Frank Gehry building. Although ultimately this idea did not work out, it would have built on the strength of our important photographic holdings and would have been very much in keeping with the spirit of Gopnik's ideas. Faced with another such opportunity, we would enthusiastically explore it.

Translation: Oh know you didn’t, dog! Props up, bro! You ain’t the first, Blake, to suggest this wonderful idea so don’t go gettin’ all high and mighty and actin’ a fool up in here like you did – uh, actually, I tried and, yes, I do admit that I failed. If somebody wants to pick up the ball and kick it around this time, I might be interested, but I would have to vet the idea, again, with Frank…and I think we all know where that will go, again.

Taken in its entirety, Gopnik's proposal might be hard to reconcile with our continuing mission to present the Corcoran's choice collection of American art (of particular resonance in this capital city) or with its very strong educational and community orientation. Still, he suggests a promising direction, not just for this museum but for our city and our national patrimony.

Translation: Look, man, all of us at the Corcoran know we have problems (and, by the way, I would like to personally thank you and the editorial staff of the Washington Post very much for not going into too much detail about all that history), but, as you know, we’re really all about real high art at the Corcoran, not exhibiting multiple prints or scavenging around in abandoned attics looking for old historic photographic stuff to display. Although there’s no chance in hell we (Frank) will every go along with your scheme, we do appreciate you taking the time to devote a full page to your ego and its idea, rather than excoriating us in painful detail over other serious matters. The potential commercial success of your brilliant concept would probably be much better realized through a for profit corporate enterprise like that which built the International Spy Museum. I personally know the folks over there and would be happy to set you up for a lunch date with them. You can reach me anytime on my Blackberry.

J.W. Bailey

"The hype comes from unemployed or partially employed marketing professionals and people who never made it as journalists wanting to believe," he said. "They want to believe there's going to be this new revolution and their lives are going to be changed."

"Essentially, I wanted to create sexually arousing imagery without using the techniques used in modern pornographic magazines -- i.e., no posing, no acknowledgment of the camera, etc. Looking back at art history, the techniques used in Playboy, for example, actually had the opposite, more "sobering" effect.

I am hoping to make a form of "anti-porn" that was still arousing; no posing, complete disregard for the camera, very spur of the moment."

"How About an Art Exhibit Inspired by an Art Critic Who’s Dragged Behind a Pickup Truck in Texas?"
By J.W. Bailey

One of the emblems of postmodern art is its insulated obsession with distilling unimaginable human tragedy down to a clever relativist art trick that is appropriate for display in the sanitized environment of the white cube space – and the larger the scale of the tragedy, the more the art trick seems to revolve around the distorted use of multi-media to convey the horrors of the deaths of the usually nameless and faceless victims that are symbolized through the art.

In his review of Christian Marclay’s seminal postmodern work, "Guitar Drag," Blake Gopnik takes the trouble to inform us that the video of the guitar being dragged behind a pickup truck for 14 minutes along a rural road echoes the death of James Byrd, Jr., at the hands of vicious racists in Texas (mind you that Gopnik doesn’t actually mention the vicious racists part, though).

Gopnik, a refined genteel member of the Washington, D.C., art elite, and a person we can safely assume has never spent more than three seconds riding in the back bed of a pickup truck in Texas with a perverted gang of drunken good ole’ boy racist rednecks looking for trouble, let alone ever being dragged behind that pickup as an African-American victim of their sick and monstrous joyride, tells us that watching Marclay’s stirring musical piece made him feel the pain of James Byrd, Jr.

Of course, the only important thing about Mr. Byrd’s actual life and death that Gopnik can muster to say in his review is that Mr. Byrd was "a black man dragged along a Texas road until his body fell apart."

Hopefully, postmodern art critics will never be licensed as forensic examiners – but I do have my doubts about that as they seem to be self-qualified to speak as experts on just about every other subject.

For the forensic art record, here’s just part of what happened to Mr. James Byrd, Jr.:

An African-American man, James Bryd, Jr., was brutally murdered by being kidnapped, beaten unconscious, spray-painted in the face with black paint, tied to the back of a pick-up truck, pants dropped down to his ankles, dragged 2.5 miles over pavement through a rural black community in Jasper County called Huff Creek, leaving his skin, blood, arms, head, genitalia, and other parts of his body strewn along the highway. His remains were dumped in front of a black cemetery.

Mr. Byrd was also member of a large family and had three sons. Following Mr. Byrd’s death, the Byrd family emerged as one of the nation's most powerful voices fighting for all people, including gay and lesbian Americans, against hate and intolerance. Mr.Byrd's sister, Louvon Harris, and his nephew, Darrell Verrett, who also serves as the executive director of the James Byrd Jr. Foundation, have been key advocates for both state and federal hate crime legislation. The family has spoken in support of the Hate Crimes Prevention Act at press conferences with HRC and appeared at Equality Rocks to promote their message of ending hate violence in America.

Marclay wants to present us with a trivial and stupid work of postmodern art that capitalizes on the death of another human being – that should come as no surprise as the world of high art loves touting this culture of death stuff. Gopnik wants to tell us about how painful that experience Byrd went through must have been after watching Marclay’s guitar fall apart – there’s no surprise there either as most art critics, no matter what their postmodern philosophical shortcomings, must at least appear to be somewhat human to their readers by giving lip service to a human disaster that is the supposed inspiration for a positively reviewed work of art.

Perhaps one day Christian Marclay will arrange for a private screening of "Guitar Drag" for all the friends and family members of Mr. James Byrd, Jr. – maybe Marclay will also invite Blake Gopnik to come back to the gallery and review that audience’s reactions to his masterpiece. And if Gopnik can sit still for long enough and actually listen to what they think and have to say about this piece of "art," there might not be enough column space in a lifetime’s supply of the Washington Post to review those reactions.

But that’s a big question – I think we would be lucky to have Gopnik sit for more than 14 minutes in the safety of the air-conditioned white cube space screening room surrounded by the traumatized emotions of people who knew and loved Mr. Byrd, Jr. (and who saw what his body really looked like after being dragged along that Texas back road) before he would get bored and have to move on to the next great piece of postmodern art to review.

A quick exit from the insensitive and manipulative "Guitar Drag" would certainly be understandable from those who personally knew Mr. Bryd, Jr. and could not stomach watching and listening to the excesses of its wretched and exploitative symbolism.

If only the world of high art could so easily exit itself from its self-created excesses by shallow artists that are propped up by an army of gullible critics that the rest of us can’t stomach from time to time, who refuse to break with the party line of postmodernism in their reviews no matter how outrageous the exploitation of the death of another human being through the art they are philosophically required to celebrate.

Sincerely,

James W. Bailey