Kara Walker at the Whitney

(Left: A sign I saw later that day.)

I went to the Kara Walker survey at the Whitney a few days ago with a friend from out of town.  My friend had an immediate reaction ("too much negativity") and I had a few of my own.  I try to resist the knee-jerk impulse, but it can be a good predictor when it comes to visual art, where a visceral reaction counts for something.

I'm a big fan of Walker's trademark work.  It illustrates the way slavery sickened everything it touched, perverting every relationship and interaction and frustrating any attempt to live a decent life in its shadow.  (I kept thinking "dehumanize" here, but everyone involved was thoroughly human.  What institutions like slavery do is devalue the idea of "human."  We are still in its shadow, with echoes in current culture, and the Confederacy still breathing in the bitter heart of the GOP.)

But seeing Walker's work in an art museum is disconcerting.  Art museums are good at providing a personal experience but -- paid for by the impulse of wealthy collectors to possess rare things -- they tame any political message.

And though slavery still affects people in a personal way (and its imagery affects people in a visceral way), it was political in nature, an institution woven into the economic and cultural fabric of this country.  Its suffering was the product of official government policy.

It's hard to ignore the separation from the street that occurs when a message is turned into art (and usually distanced from everyday life in the interests of maintaining a long shelf-life), then hung in the company of million dollar objects.  And the setting makes it easy to see how an artist like Walker could be accused of exploiting imagery born of collective misery for personal gain.

In fact that -- the difference between presenting this work on posters on the street vs. in the Whitney -- makes me think that Walker may be more interested in making people squirm in a museum setting (a personal reaction) than in making them question the "good German" within who can ignore crimes built into the way they live now (a political reaction).

Enough speculation...

Things I immediately liked at the show: the few minutes of the shadow-puppet animation I watched (8 Possible Beginnings...) that are based on the Middle Passage (slave ships on the way to the Americas); her silhouette panoramas; and the best of the small, late '90s drawings I saw.

Things I immediately disliked: a lot of the color and layering.  There's nothing wrong with "playing" with such a serious topic -- that's what she's done all along.  But playing in formal terms, as though the images are devoid of meaning -- like the visual pablum churned out by TV and pop culture, the empty icons Warhol found and made -- seems like an empty exercise.

That's the problem with a strong, trademark theme and look: how do you move through it and retain its power while saying something new?  How do you extend and enrich the body of work in a way that's true to its heart?

Of course I'm not the judge of her "truth."  The formal elements that bothered me may just be steps on the path to more powerful delivery of her message, and dealing with the issues raised by the use of such loaded imagery may lead her to produce work that formalists can only dream of.