AngloMania: Tradition and Transgression in British Fashion
May 3—September 4, 2006
Metropolitan Museum of Art

Museums in the 21st century are focused on finding ways to become more relevant to their audiences and inventive in their approaches to exhibition development. An increasingly popular vehicle for reaching these goals is the development of interdisciplinary exhibitions. The term interdisciplinary when applied to museum exhibitions refers to the partnering of several curatorial disciplines within one museum to tell an enhanced and enriched story.

AngloMania, the spring 2006 offering of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute, achieves a unique interdisciplinary approach, involving pieces from multiple departments in the museum and set within the context of some of the permanent galleries. The exhibit, on display in the English period rooms of the museum, presents British fashion from 1976 to 2006 within an historical framework, using paintings, decorative art, furniture and the period rooms themselves to emphasize the way that designers during this thirty-year period drew upon history for their designs—either returning to the traditionalism of past eras or opposing the past through transformation and contradiction. The result is a series of tableaux, at once traditional in their composition and deviant in their content: an 18th century dining hall or tavern setting features "gothic" punk fashions in black lace and leather; a gentleman’s club juxtaposes mannequins in period formal attire and suits (tradition) with punk outfits (transgression), including a dog in a fishnet body suit attached to its master by a chain.

The costumes are spectacular, from David Bowie's Union Jack flag morning coat, designed for his Earthling World Tour, to Shaun Leane and Alexander McQueen’s black dress with aluminum spine corset—an image reminiscent of the movie Alien. But the real beauty of the exhibition is how seamlessly the museum's departments have woven together contemporary and antique fashion with period paintings, sculpture, decorative arts, furniture and design—blending and juxtaposing art forms and styles—to tell a story of a particular moment in the British fashion movement. The result is both ironic and informative, deserving of that third and most elusive of I words: innovative.

This is a daring exhibition for any museum, but especially for an older more staid museum known for its presentation of masterpieces and classical art rather than contemporary or experimental art, whose supporters tend towards the more conservative—both politically and aesthetically. The Met is to be applauded for taking a risk and successfully implementing an exhibition idea as serious as it is whimsical and pushing both the museum itself and its constituents intellectually, conceptually and aesthetically.

Darwin: Discovering the Tree of Life
November 19, 2005—August 20, 2006
American Museum of Natural History

Darwin: Discovering the Tree of Life, on display at the American Museum of Natural History, had a daring all its own. The exhibit focusing on Charles Darwin and his theory of evolution opened in November 2005, not long after President Bush announced his support of the intelligent design theory of creation.

Like AngloMania, Darwin is an interdisciplinary exhibit, combining collections from many scientific disciplines (botany, paleontology, ichthyology, herpetology, ornithology, etc.) to tell the story of Charles Darwin and his world-changing discovery. Artifacts, biological and geological specimens and even living plants and animals are brought together in this exhibit to tell a compelling, fascinating and important story.

While the subject matter was both timely and of interest and the interdisciplinary approach helped to bring the story to life, the bottlenecks of a crowded layout, the overly pedantic label copy and the built-in redundancies of the video elements lessened the overall effectiveness of the presentation. However, the exhibit ends on a highlight, with beautiful living orchids, each one uniquely evolved to attract a specific insect for its food.

Whitney Biennial 2006: Day for Night
March 2—May 28, 2006
Whitney Museum of American Art

If the American Museum of Natural History has an overabundance of label copy in its Darwin exhibit, then the Whitney Museum of American Art takes the exact opposite approach, posting only “tombstone” labels (artist name, dates, title of artwork and media) in the galleries with explanations available via (free) Acoustiguide audio tour. This allows the viewer to experience the art either solely from an aesthetic and unmediated emotional perspective, that is, completely devoid of context, or with the context of the artist’s background and intent provided by the audio guide. I viewed the artworks both in the Whitney’s permanent collection and in the museum-wide temporary show the 2006 Biennial: Day for Night first aesthetically, allowing myself to be drawn to the pieces that moved me in some manner, and only then listening to the audio explanation. I discovered that the context could completely transform my understanding and appreciation for a work—either for good or bad. Similarly, many misconceptions and misunderstandings were pointed out to me or resolved through the audio guide—again both for good or bad—breathtakingly beautiful pieces suddenly becoming laden with the angst and chronic depression of the artist.

The Biennial, a much anticipated event in the art world, this year pushed gently at the concept of the artist—who is an artist, what is the role of the artist? Biennial artist Momus redefined his relation to art and the exhibition by acting as an anonymous sometime viewer, wandering through the galleries discussing the works and referring to himself as an “Unreliable Tour Guide.” Several collectives or groups rather than individual artists were represented in the Biennial.

Artists from media other fine or visual arts were included in the exhibit. Kenneth Anger, the occultist film-maker and author, has a room devoted to himself, set up like a shrine to his films and Hollywood Babylon, including his latest film, Mouse Heaven, devoted to the darker, sadistic side of Mickey Mouse. A painting depicting the life of Miles Davis is attributed to the famous jazz musician—much to the surprise of a viewing audience unaware of his painting abilities. Octogenarian Warhol Factory star, Taylor Mead, has contributed crude, childlike drawings detailing a “naughty” fairy tale (the dragon/monster and his camel/horse are the good guys and the prince is the bad guy, in the end both hero and villain are dead and the castle and princess are up for rent) from one of his poetry performances, transforming his performance and literary art into visual art.

In the exhibit, Down by Law—a show-within-a-show in the Biennial created by The Wrong Gallery—works of art act as evidence against both artists (Mapplethorpe, Warhol) and artistic subjects in all media—from a wall of photographs of Patty Hearst and Andres Serrano’s mixed media Piss Christ to a silk screen of President Bush himself.

The Biennial, and Down by Law in particular, also momentarily transformed the art viewers into the viewed with haunting portraits of the 19 suspected hijackers from September 11, 2001 lurking throughout the galleries and the entire museum, reminding us that danger, uncertainty and violence lurk all around us—even in the most unsuspecting of places.

In the bathroom at the end of my visit I ran into a woman who was so in awe she had to talk about it. “I’ve been to a lot of museums,” she told me at the sink, “but I’ve never been to one like this before! This place is pretty special, huh? I only wish I could take photos of the amazing art!” Upon exiting the bathroom, I pointed her in the direction of the gift shop so she could buy postcards of the art. You’re welcome, Whitney.



To comment on or reply to this post, please email us.