Content provided in partnership with
Walkabout: Francis Alys's peripatetic actions have won him acclaim on the global scene. A traveling exhibition surveys the career of this multifaceted artist, while a New York installation makes an artwork of his own unusual collection
Art in America, Feb, 2008 by Gregory Volk
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
In a current arts situation marked by proliferation, with more and more galleries, exhibitions, biennials, collectors, art fairs, art consultants, art blogs and, well, artists, one of the more lamentable occurrences has been the suspension of Dia Art Foundation's pioneering contemporary exhibitions on 22nd Street in New York's Chelsea. Between 1987 and early 2004 Dia presented some of the most compelling, thoughtful and visually striking exhibitions anywhere--ambitious, mostly one-person shows specifically designed for the institution's converted warehouse.
Because they were up for many months, these exhibitions rewarded repeated and patient viewing, while accentuating the myriad nuances of the works on display. It was good to see Robert Irwin's 1998-2000 installations in Dia's third-floor gallery, involving scrims, natural light filtered through gels on the windows and fluorescent lights, but better to see them several times over, in order to fully appreciate their blend of phenomenological research, optical bedazzlement and meditative quiescence. Gerhard Richter's sprawling photography archive Atlas had its U.S. debut at Dia in 1995-96, anticipating its inclusion in his 2002 MOMA retrospective by seven years; Lawrence Weiner's excellent 1991-92 exhibition anticipated his current Whitney Museum retrospective by 16 years. Bridget Riley's 2000-01 exhibition brought a renewed interest in this British Op artist, who had only rarely exhibited in New York. While showcasing luminaries who emerged in the 1960s and early 1970s, Dia also presented standout next-generation artists such as Roni Horn, Jorge Pardo, Jessica Stockholder, Pierre Huyghe and Tracey Moffatt. In an increasingly fast-paced art scene and market, Dia, with its slowed-down focus on complex visions to be savored, was all about art and not about hype, and was therefore a refuge and oasis.
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
As Dia shifted its attention (and presumably its finances) to Dia:Beacon in upstate New York, such exhibitions unfortunately shifted upstate as well, much to New York Cites, and Chelsea's, detriment. That's why Dia's return to the city in a three-year collaboration with the far uptown Hispanic Society of America is so welcome. Inaugurating this effort is a fascinating exhibition by the Mexico City-based Belgian artist Francis Alys, who, since the early 1990s, has garnered considerable international attention for his offbeat and sometimes ephemeral work: sending a peacock as his representative to the opening of the 2001 Venice Biennale, for example (The Ambassador), or pushing a large rectangular block of ice (akin to a Minimalist sculpture) through Mexico City for more than nine hours, until it became a small chunk, then drops, then nothing at all (Paradox of Praxis 1, 1997). In the United States, Alys's work has recently been much more visible. His Dia exhibition coincides with his first large-scale U.S. museum survey, at the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles, and follows by several months his show at David Zwirner in New York, his first solo with the gallery.
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
Alys's "Fabiola," at the Hispanic Society, features almost 300 paintings of a 4th-century female Christian saint (d. 399 A.D.), based on a now vanished late 19th-century prototype by the French academic painter Jean-Jacques Henner. The twist here is that none of the paintings were made by Alys, although he has long worked in the medium. Instead, they were accomplished over the last few decades by sundry amateurs, unknowns and religious devotees of varying talents, ranging from considerable to meager, working in diverse places, styles and eras. While some of the works have signatures or attributions, many others are anonymous. (A checklist provides what little information is available.) In true Dia fashion, Alys's exhibition is up for 8 months; having opened Sept. 20, 2007, it runs through Apr. 26.
Alys has gradually acquired this collection of depictions of St. Fabiola during his global travels--at flea markets, from street vendors or through private dealers and friends who were on the lookout. And he is known for his travels. Born (in 1959) and raised in Belgium, Alys was studying architectural history in Venice when, in 1986, he temporarily relocated to Mexico to assist on a project dealing with aqueducts, as an alternative to serving in the military in his home country. When his civil service ended, Alys remained in Mexico City. He also jettisoned architecture to begin work as an artist, without formal training or a substantial support system.
Central to much of Alys's work is an engagement with travel per se, with moving through time and space rather than adhering to a fixed vantage point. In one of his acclaimed "paseos," or strolls (which are often documented), he walked through a gritty, working-class neighborhood in Sao Paulo toting a punctured can of paint that left a thin blue trail on the streets, a visible record of his ephemeral presence (The Leak, 1995). For another, he spent seven days walking the streets of Copenhagen, each day under the influence of a different drug (Narcotourism, 1996). Rather than walking through nature, in the manner of Richard Long and Hamish Fulton, Alys devises urban passages that propel him through different cultural and historical milieus; through stark class and political differences; toward, and not away from, others. Moreover, while they convey a contemporary sense of rootlessness and drift, they equally imply a radical openness to the surroundings, wherever and whatever these might be.
