All of the wall dividers in the Whitney’s fourth floor galleries are down creating an enormous long, rectangular dance platform. The iconic trapezoid window jutting out over Madison Avenue has been covered. Yet, my eyes, perhaps accustomed to seeing painting and sculpture in this space, seem to look for comparisons with static art forms in the seven-part abstract dance sequence by British choreographer Michael Clark, entitled “Who’s Zoo,” to the pop-punk recorded music of Javis Cocker. This is dance more like animated sculpture, creating forms and shapes to be viewed as curious objects, not fluid art in motion.
Articles by Louise Levathes
“You can touch it…” “Really?” The little girl hesitatingly reached up and pulled down on a steel rod at the base of small steel dragonfly mounted on the wall. Suddenly the insect’s delicate, sculptured wings opened and separated – as if it were about to fly. “Wow,” she whispered. Then, her friend tried, moving the crank more rapidly, creating a somewhat more agitated dragonfly. The girls were enchanted. Though the experience of cranking open the eyes of mysterious face mounted at eye-level next to the dragonfly they had to admit had been, well, “pretty scary.”
As I stepped into the 47th floor garden room of a new luxury apartment in Istanbul, a cool breeze caught my hair and made the curtain in the sitting room behind me billow like a sail. Suddenly feeling uneasy, I grabbed hold of the sliding glass door. I was inside, correct? There wasn’t a wide-open window nearby I could fall out of? The sensation I had was that I had just walked onto the windy veranda of a country house or a boardwalk by the beach. The breeze ebbed and flowed, moving the trees and shrubs in the garden. The air felt fresh and clean and at least 5 degrees cooler than the crowded sidewalks below at street level.