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It is great to see this get coverage. 

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November 18, 2005
Art Review | 'Frequency'
Where Issues of Black Identity Meet the Concerns of Every Artist 
By ROBERTA SMITH
Once upon a time, toward the middle of the 20th century, the Guggenheim, the 
Whitney Museum and the Museum of Modern Art regularly mounted theme shows and 
surveys of contemporary art. These days, only the Whitney, among New York's big 
museums, maintains the habit, most notably with its flawed but indispensable 
biennials.

The job of sorting through a moment that is astonishingly, if not dismayingly, 
thick with contemporary art has fallen to younger, suppler institutions. It 
rewards them with a vitality and relevance that larger museums are hard pressed 
to match. P.S. 1 has now mounted two "Greater New York" exhibitions, one in 
2000, the other last spring. In 2002 and again in 2004, the Queens Museum of 
Art mounted shaky biennials of artists living in its borough. El Museo del 
Barrio has its "S-Files" shows. And without christening its efforts with a 
carry-over title, the Studio Museum in Harlem has opened "Frequency," its 
second survey in four years of young and emerging black artists living in the 
United States.

"Frequency" is not quite as strong as "Freestyle," its 2001 predecessor, which 
was also organized by Thelma Golden, the Studio Museum's director and chief 
curator, and Christine Y. Kim, its associate curator. Their exhibition brings 
together 35 artists, most born since 1970, who display varying degrees of 
accomplishment, promise or cluelessness. This may be par for the course with 
new-art surveys, and it's also part of their usefulness, especially to even 
younger artists who, because they are figuring out how to make their work, are 
the most important audience for shows like this.

Not surprisingly, "Frequency" suggests that black artists deal with black 
experience or identity in ways as numerous as themselves. Some make it the 
center of their work; for others, it is one aspect among many; for still 
others, it is beside the point, a buried subtext. The degree of explicitness 
has nothing to do with the quality.

This exhibition, for example, includes the young, enormously talented Kalup 
Linzy, who parlays black experience into a complex form of self-consciousness 
in the video "Conversations Wit de Churen III: Da Young and Da Mess." This 
ostensible soap opera fuses camp, scathing satire, minstrelsy and a real 
heart-rending narrative concerning gay lovers in what seems to be a small town 
into a bristling concoction, with the artist playing several roles.

But also on hand is a work by Michael Queenland, whose "Untitled (Radical Since 
1774), No. 2" consists of a long, subtly altered encyclopedia entry about the 
brilliant mathematician who became the Unabomber; the text has been beautifully 
rewritten by hand. The Unabomber is referred to only as X, and his tale is 
illustrated by images of Russell Crowe as the schizophrenic mathematician John 
Nash in "A Beautiful Mind." This splinters the narrative in several directions 
at once, toward Malcolm X and Hollywood glamorization, while illuminating the 
tragic waste involved in any form of marginalization and exclusion.

And as might be expected, black experience can also be used superficially, 
without enough personal inflection or originality. Zoƫ Charlton's drawings add 
nothing to an imagery already well developed by Kara Walker; Lester Julian 
Merriweather's cutout wallpaper suggests a craftsier, more down-home take on 
Arturo Herrera's cutout forms. Paula Wilson's multipaneled landscape 
painting-collage exudes ambition and mixed-media possibility, but neither 
escapes its academicism nor sheds new light on the black experience by adding a 
video image of a black arm breaking twigs off a tree branch. More promising and 
thought-through is Xaviera Simmons's color photograph of a black woman in a 
flowered robe standing in the middle of a wintry cornfield, but it never 
exceeds terms established by artists from Cindy Sherman to Katie Grannan.

Much of the work in "Frequency" tends to occupy two extremes: the fairly 
Conceptual, and the overtly physical or pictorial - that is, art that involves 
cameras of one kind or another and art that is densely, sometimes 
ostentatiously handmade and visually intense, if not oppressive.

The camera/Conceptual side of the aisle includes, in addition to Mr. Linzy's 
video, Michael Paul Britto's hilarious action-movie trailer "Dirrrty Harriet 
Tubman" and Hank Willis Thomas's video "Winter in America," made in 
collaboration with Kambui Olujimi, which uses action-figure dolls to recount a 
senseless murder, making the crime all the more shocking. In photography, 
Leslie Hewitt creates cryptic homages to childhood memory with a brightly 
symmetrical version of handmade photomontage, while Wardell Milan II builds 
convincingly (and digitally) on Martha Rosler's politicized use of the medium. 
Karyn Olivier's "Doubles" pairs a photograph of two old, neglected two-family 
dwellings that serendipitously resemble Gordon-Matta Clark's sawed-in-half 
house with a real wood seesaw that also implies the structures' slide into 
oblivion.

Demetrius Oliver adds to the history of body art, staged photography and subtle 
wordplay with images that are themselves like body blows. Mr. Oliver's "Till" 
commemorates one of the most notorious lynchings in the United States with an 
image of the artist's head slathered in ketchup, but also suggests the word 
"until," which is freighted with unfinished business.

The standouts in physical and pictorial density are Jeff Sonhouse's bristling, 
masked, mug-shot-like portrait, "Inauguration of the Solicitor," with its 
precisely deployed paint, collage and regimented matchsticks, and Nick Cave's 
heavily sequined, gorgeously patterned "Sound Suits." Covering the entire body, 
and culminating at the head in tall, shieldlike shapes, these amazing 
confections conjure quilts, disco-worthy finery, altars and a multicultural 
array of rituals and decorative motifs. They argue vociferously for clothing as 
an elaborately communicative text, a view echoed by two paintings from 
Mickalene Thomas's "Brawling Spitfire" series, in which women in 
rhinestone-studded garments grapple for dominance and sometimes resort to 
biting. And another kind of decorative density prevails in Shinique Amie 
Smith's imposing bale of brightly colored clothing, which invokes labor both 
forced and tender. Its careful organization makes it a kind of cubic quilt.

As Ms. Smith's work suggests, artists working with found objects and materials 
or pre-existing situations often split the difference between Conceptual 
spareness and physical opulence. Jefferson Pinder's "Carwash Meditations," a 
collaboration with Jeff Stein, shows a black man inside a car as it passes 
through a carwash; the radio blares angry, pulsing hip-hop while the colors and 
textures raging outside the windows reiterate the music's furious creativity in 
visual terms. Rashawn Griffin covers a low platform with bands of found fabric, 
creating an abstract portrait that is also a landscape (and that brings to mind 
Mike Kelley's early afghan pieces). Rodney McMillian makes a broken-down 
armchair eloquently evoke a work-worn body, near collapse, while Mike Cloud 
extracts images from a book called "African Ceremonies" and fashions them into 
handsome collages that wreak havoc with National Geographic orderliness but 
still pale in comparison with the cobbled-together figures of artists like 
Wangechi Mutu. 

In surveying the work of these black artists, "Frequency" also indicates some 
of the challenges and options facing most artists today. Above all, it reflects 
the ways that issues of identity have become part of a larger mixture of 
concerns for black artists while reminding us that these preoccupations should 
be inherent in all art-making. Any art of lasting interest is a form of 
identity art that emanates from, and expresses the core of, the artist's 
personal and social being. The ability to get at this core is a necessity for 
art and a result of being free. After "Freestyle" and "Frequency," one looks 
forward to future exhibitions at the Studio Museum, including more whose titles 
may begin with that inspiring syllable. 



  a.. Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company 
  b.. 
 

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