Mudam exhibition bites off more than it can chew
Juxtaposition of art works first intrigues, but quickly becomes irritating
Cristina Lucas Philosophical Capitalism, 2014-2016/2020 Collection Mudam Photo: Cristina Lucas
A new exhibition at the Mudam delves into the museum’s rich collection, presenting a wide array of works that leaves the impression that the curators may have bitten off more than they can chew.
Taking its inspiration from Edward Steichen’s world famous photo exhibition, The Family of Man, the Kirchberg-based museum presents works by thirty-seven artists from around the world under the title “Me, Family. Portrait of a Young Planet.”
Curated by Francesco Bonami with the assistance of Emanuela Mazzonis di Pralafera, the ambitious exhibition explores the question how to represent humanity in the 21st century.
Taking Steichen’s humanist approach as their springboard, the duo dive into the Mudam collection, pulling out an array of works that complement each other, sometimes successfully, sometimes less so.
Visitors might recognize works such as Wolfgang Tillmans’ 22 Portaits (2000-18) or Shirin Neshat’s Guardians of Revolution (1994), both of which were on display in the MUDAM’s 2019 photography exhibition, Subjects of Life.
Far from a rehash of the museum’s greatest hits, the show couples these works with an eclectic array of acquisitions — ranging from video to large-scale installations – creating a dialogue that feels fresh, provocative - and ultimately capricious.
Certain works complement each other wonderfully, such as István Csákány’s large-scale installation, Bernsteinzimmer (2010), in which the artist meticulously reproduces a workshop entirely out of wood—complete with tools, electrical outlets and carved pinup girls—and Andreas Gursky’s photograph of a deserted postal warehouse in Rotterdam.
Coupled alongside Thomas Struth’s Museum Photographs (1989) — which capture museum-goers from all over the world as they flock around historical works of art — these pieces subvert the relationship of observer and observed, of the act of production and the product itself.
This leaves one to question one's own relationship to the works as, walking across the cobbled slats of Csákány’s Bernsteinzimmer, one steps both into the role of subject and craftsman, feeling for the integrity of the boards beneath one's feet or running hands listlessly over the room’s wooden paraphernalia as others watch through a plexiglass window.
However, while one might be carried away by the thought-provoking combination of certain pieces, it isn’t long before you come across a work that feels seemingly out-of-place.
Michael Reinertz is the art critic of the Luxembourg Times Photo: Guy Wolff
However, while one might be carried away by the thought-provoking combination of certain pieces, it isn’t long before you come across a work that feels seemingly out-of-place.
Whether it is a large black-and-white photograph from Neshat’s series, Women of Allah (1993-97), or Cristina Lucas’ video collage in which she asks people to define their notions of abstract, philosophical concepts, there just seems to be a general lack of cohesion between certain works and the rest of the exhibition.
While the disparate pairings don’t take anything away from the individual pieces, it feels presumptuous to throw them together under the humanist purview of 'The Family of Man', an endeavour of enormous scope.
Taking the works out from under the shadow of Steichen’s seminal exhibition, “Me, Family. Portrait of a Young Planet” is a wonderfully eclectic and thought-provoking experience. But as a concept, Bonami and Mazzonis di Pralafera have bitten off more than they can chew.
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