New in Brooklyn: Kara Walker’s A Subtlety*

Above photograph by the author. Depicts the back of Walker’s sphinx, Sugar Baby (2014).

You could say that Kara Walker’s latest exhibition, A Subtlety *also entitled the Marvelous Sugar Baby, an Homage to the unpaid and overworked Artisans who have refined our Sweet tastes from the cane fields to the Kitchens of the New World on the Occasion of the demolition of the Domino Sugar Refining Plant is anything but subtle. I attended the show today, and to get in it is about a half hour wait, though under the blazing Williamsburg sun it feels like longer. Ice cream and beverage vendors walked by continuously during this purgatory period and much to my surprise, one of the peddlers comically said something meaningful and humorous about art: he expressed that after all, he, too, is an artist, utilizing his own creativity in mixing multi-colored drinks. That one moment of watching him speak so gregariously was funny and typical New York, but it also made me wonder about who we define as artists, and what we define as art, a highly pertinent theme considering the context of an ‘art’ installation comprised of molasses-based structures and a monument made from sugar.

When I finally reached the exhibition’s entrance gates, I found myself in a field of rubble with a dilapidated Domino Sugar Factory situated in its center. Because the factory is so physically imposing even as it is falling apart, walking towards it felt cinematic and climactic. The acridity of the factory where the show is housed was the first thing I noticed when I came in; it smelled like a combination of sugar and urine. The second thing I observed were the spread-out wooden or brown plaster sculptures of naked children, some of them mauled and mutilated. These children, with their huge round heads and carrying large baskets, were drenched entirely in sugar crystals and syrup. On the floor beneath them were oily saccharine spills. The ten or so figures were meant to be African-American slaves working on sugar plantations and bruised or beaten; wounded and near death. As you walk through the space, the irony here is obvious: sculptures that speak out against and to the tragedy of slave labor are presented in a site where menial blue-collar workers once toiled. The works troubled me because of their brutality: the limbs laid out on the floor, sugary coats of skin peeling off lesion-marred bodies.

My mood resurged upon peeking through a little whole in the factory’s steel walls from which you could see a brilliantly lit East River and the buildings of lower Manhattan. Something about seeing the natural world inspired me for what was to come: an entirely artificial edifice, in the form of a ginormous sculpture of an Aunt Jemima-style, kerchiefed and bosomed, sugar sphinx, stood in the back, erected on top of a wire or styrofoam base. By the time I saw it, it had already been up for a little while and seemed to be melting. There were also hints of yellow tinting/discoloration, in contrast with Creative Time, the installation organizer’s, many promises that there have been no animal incidents involved in maintaining the project (one would conjecture that there might be).

Prior to visiting A Subtlety in person, I had come to the conclusion as I read up on the exhibition in numerous magazines and newspapers that this piece was overrated, too associated and tinged with Walker’s political agenda. And while that may be, the simple beauty in the proportions and the enormity of her works– not just the sphinx but also the other sculptures, as well– makes for a jaw-dropping experience. The line is worth the wait. Her show is an important cultural event that is interesting and strays from the norm.

Want more information about A Subtlety (its ethos being already summarized aptly by its lengthy subheading)? Read up on the artist and works via this NY Times article by Roberta Smith and this Vulture version by her husband, Jerry Saltz (an unintended coincidence). Now get over there (or, alternatively, build your own digital sphinx or Sugar Baby, and read Creative Time’s curatorial statement). Either way, enjoy!

Also, here’s a really cool video of Creative Time employees assembling the sphinx:

 


Editor’s Note: this post is one of the earliest written for MolaPola and thus might not be as sophisticated or evolved, in language and in content, as later articles. All stories featured on this site (precluding those by guest authors) are composed exclusively by Moselle Kleiner, without outside assistance. She has elected not to rewrite more primitive accounts like this one to maintain a semblance of the blog’s progression and thereby further emphasize future advancements. Thank you for understanding.

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