In the wake of backlash against huge group shows like Documenta 11 (too politicalwheres the art?) and the Venice Biennale (too difficult), this years Whitney Biennial, if nothing else, will be remembered as a Biennial for the people.
The desire to force a style beforehand is only a mere apology for ones own anxiety, Willem de Kooning once said. That remark poignantly broadened my reading of Milton Resnicks entire oeuvre, especially after my first visit with a friend to his studio in 1986, a former synagogue on Eldridge Street.
Last October, Mike Weiss asked me if I would write an essay on the work of the seminal Austrian Actionist painter, Hermann Nitsch. Mike was in the process of planning an exhibition of Nitschs new work to be held at his gallery in February 2004.
Matthew Brannons recent show at John Connelly Presents, Exhausted Blood and Imitation Salt, consisted of two canvas tapestries, (needlepoint and sprayed acrylic, showing imagery of bamboo and birds), two silkscreened posters advertising nonexistent films (House of Rot and Sick Decisions), four letterpress-printed wine labels, and two ink drawings of place settings.