
Installation view of Josh Smith's work in "Younger Than Jesus"
Two more reviews of “Younger Than Jesus” have come to our attention, and once again they highlight the way this exhibition divides critical opinion. The first appears on VillageVoice.com as part of the weekly Bones’ Beat column. The author of this blog happens to know that the pseudonymous Bones is a member of the Millennial Generation, which seems useful information to share in the context of the exhibition review. Here are some of its salient points:
The organic, permissive vibe, projecting a core idea that the Museum is listening to the young, makes Younger Than Jesus feel like a laid-back parent, a cool dad. The work and the way it’s put together is emphatically inconclusive, comfortable with the fruit of its own sophistication and conviction while entirely lacking in lessons or spittle-spattering theoretical bluster. One wanders around, basically, eyeing things and things’ wall-texts, then wandering off. The cadence of the work is unflirtatious and lacking in hustle, either in the football-team or the corner-boy sense. Stakes seem low, and rank narcissism–a unifying characteristic of young artistic practice–is deflected in a way that will shock anyone who’s weathered the barely-legal photogenic mania in the preening New York art scene of the last five years.
Here, Bones turns Howard Halle’s complaint about “low stakes” into a compliment. Bones goes on to note that there is an absence of “oppression” in the show, and suggests that “these young artists are not raging, freaking out or self-destructing, because there’s no cell they can’t get out of.” Does that accord with your own experience of the show? We’d love to hear, either via the comments section or by e-mail (use the address in the right-hand column). To read the rest of Bones’ Beat, click here.
In the meantime, be sure to read this dissenting opinion from Ariella Budick, published in the Financial Times. Her lede (journalism-speak for opening paragraph or opening gambit) is unequivocal:
This survey of artists under 33 puts its finger to the pulse of the youngest generation and finds it very faint indeed. The show’s overwhelming dreariness suggests that, despite the messianic title, the coming of art’s saviours is farther off than ever.
These are the Millennials, born since 1976 and natives of the digital nation. You might expect them to be gazing forwards but, with a few exceptions, they are either afflicted with nostalgia or destitute of fresh ideas. They seem to have taken to heart the environmentalists’ dictum: recycle, recycle, recycle.
Optimists, of course, could turn the last statement around by emphasizing how such rampant recycling of historical materials—artistic or otherwise—signifies a new emphasis in cultural reception and production. Think “remix” instead of “recycle.” Budick goes on to chastize the curators by suggesting they have “kept the overall quality [of the exhibition] extremely low.” Yet despite such unfairly sweeping statements, she does offer the following morsel for thought at the end of her review:
The show also draws a different line that seems arbitrary: the one between generations. To group art by the age of its makers is to imply that the young have a special relationship with innovation, that as a group only they can produce a ferment of fresh ideas, unburdened by habit or received wisdom. In fact, what you get is little more than a student show, heavy with influence and anxiety. The artists may feel like they are carving out a freewheeling space in a culture rigidified by commerce. But the museum has simply trapped them in a marketing concept.
To read the full review, click here. Of course, the largest questions raised by the exhibition concern periodization and generational coherence. Are we now at a historical moment in which assigning broad characteristics or traits to a given age cohort—say, everyone born between 1976 and 1986—is no longer possible? Now that media, technology, and relatively inexpensive travel brings the lifestyles, ethics, and cultural folkways of so many people of such different backgrounds into view, can we subsume such differences under a cross-cultural generational rubric? Are such master narratives worthwhile? Is the network of artists, dealers, curators, critics, and institutions a small enough subset of world cultural production to form a kind of “control group” that makes such generalizations possible? What do you think?