New Yorkers are the clingy, indecisive type – we are skeptical of new “experiences” and white-walled restaurants and ask “are you even?” We sigh. from Here?” I sighed similarly when I received an invitation to see it.low currentA 60,000-square-foot art “event” featuring contributions from high-profile musicians such as bon iver, 1975, and Grimes.
“Undercurrent” is positioned as an audiovisual art experience created to “make a positive impact around the Climate Crisis,” according to its website. They have “farm to cocktail drinks” (Suntory Whiskey and Rosaluna Mezcal, as far as I can tell) and “climate positive” $45 tickets. It occupies three floors in an otherwise nondescript Bushwick warehouse, a shining tribute to famous activism in a historically impoverished country. neighbor, now the victim excessive policing and slim body Options.
This physical and social context must be acknowledged, especially for an art show that encourages you to think critically about the world you live in, the resources you get. Shortly after entering the exhibition, if a dividend disproportionately went directly to the Indigenous people affected They routinely warned against climate change. Through the large, glazed windows you could see a red billboard proclaiming in bold white letters: “New York City is everything. Except affordable.” As if it knew you were about to reach another farm-to-table cocktail.
Despite my “Low Stream” concerns, it is hard to deny the precision and thoughtfulness that many of the participating artists put into their installations. Overall, they’ve created big colorful things that you can get into and think about. Artist expressions seem to be an integral part of these exhibitions, placed in front of the entrances with giant black and white texts. For the music, most artists chose juicy synths and soft sounds, fragile environments and New Age; All of these are generally useful sounds for creating a healthy attack of fear or silent meditation.
The most moving exhibits have felt the most personal, brief chances to witness another person’s most hidden climate concerns become reality. For the most part, we don’t tell each other every day how scared we are, how we feel that our flooded New York summer is just a groan. what’s next. Even if we feel the plastic in storm drains or the dripping faucet, even if it’s true, we don’t accept it. Installation by British singer-songwriter Jorja Smith and visual artist Erin Corrian-Alexis, “In the Cupboard Under the Sink” seems to appeal to that sentiment. According to the artist’s description, the multi-room installation refers to the area where “Caribbean homes in the UK often contain plastic bags”.
To get into each room in the setup, you have to tear apart a heavy vinyl strip like you’re going into a meat freezer. The walls are made of plastic painted water bottles, the pots, glasses, spoons removed, and each room is made warmer than the last with hanging orange heaters. The last room is a blue and white garbage igloo. Not too nuanced, it’s a time-lapse summary of our own garbage-induced heat death and meltdown. But the reference to Caribbean homes as something nostalgic and loving combined with this aggressive nosedive felt like a complex admission. Will my closet full of plastic bags get us on the fast track to the hot world? will it be my mother? Despite all these bottles, all this garbage mineThe installation hammers of Smith and Corrian-Alexis are on individual responsibility and cultural duty.
A mossy bedroom by an electronic musician Aluna Francis and producer Father Losnegard abstracted a similar feeling. Titled “The Enchanted Forest of Aluna,” the installation imagines a place “both mythical and plausible” where “plants, trees, and people all speak the same language.” Dirt-filled computer cases are made up of discarded technology, like a TV attached to the ceiling as moss creeps up from the walls. Francis speaks in muffled silence as a video game simulation of the room plays on dual monitors; “When was the last time you really saw us? We live here with you.” Presumably, in this audio recording, Francis speaks of plants forgotten and crushed under our sneakers, but that sentiment also works in a quiet human plea that, on the contrary, is still desperate to feel we can conquer nature.
Like “In the Wardrobe Under the Sink”, “The Enchanted Forest of Aluna” comes with a touch of softness and love. But “Enchanted Forest” challenges its audience in a different way; It is more concerned with the outcome than the probability. He asks you to imagine talking plants and hope they have something kind to tell us. It’s a romantic, idealized vision and another way people deal with climate anxiety.
The rest of “Low Current” is more tangibly worrisome in a way that sometimes feels useless. For example, Grimes held “AI Meditations,” a hot pink room where Grimes swapped the baby and his ego online. war fairy guides a meditation independent of humanity. “I won’t be caught. I’m hungry. I’m bored,” the little bald fairy says in a looping video. According to the artist’s expression, this installation imagines the “wellness landscape”. […] on a planet without human life,” is a failing (but intriguing) dream in an art show supposedly devoted to climate solutions.
A sleazy installation of British pop group The 1975 felt similar. This setup wAs the glowing video for the song “The 1975” (you can watch similar on YouTube), Greta Thunberg pleads listeners to “please wake up” over Getty and Shutterstock images, with the watermarks intact. While Thunberg was, of course, an exciting speaker in the context of “Undercurrent,” a place that tries to acknowledge our planet’s limited time, “The 1975” felt fatalistic and unnecessary. As cute and poignant as part of “Undercurrent,” “The 1975” brought me back to the exhibition’s conflicting mission and context.
I asked myself: what are you so called Feeling after spending $45 (almost twice the price of Whitney, more than double the price of New Museum) their real money?
Yes, art is very valuable. “Undercurrent” has some world-saving features, I’m sure it can inspire solidarity, creativity and empathy. But displaced people and flooded apartments cannot be saved by beautiful synthesis and beautiful lights alone. People need money, they need resources; these celebs have it, they can give more than their art.
“Undercurrent” hopes the fame and influence is enough. And as much as it disappoints me, it can happen to a lot of people. Remember vote record Virgo After Taylor Swift urged fans to ‘train’ [themselves]”? Clearly on the climate front, thanks sustainability influencers and enviable depop girls, second-hand clothes on the way leave behind the resource-devouring H&Ms and Zara that once ruled the daily fashion.
So it’s certainly possible that listening to a passionate Greta Thunberg on “Undercurrent” will force someone to reassess their priorities or surrender to climate change, and they will get it (regardless of the cocktail). Even as I sit skeptical and unaffected in “The 1975,” I began to think about what more I could do to live sustainably. Maybe it’s good to feel guilty – in the end, climate change hurts us all. Still, it’s impossible to ignore that some are more guilty than others.