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Despite my proximity to three of the founders of the Biennial, Bolm Studios' Shea Little, Joseph Phillips, and Jana Swec, I've never submitted work to either Biennial or even had a twitch of desire to participate. I've spent most of my professional life dodging the art world and preferring not to get caught up in the cult of personality, manifestos and convoluted thinking and pretension of it all. I don't feel that I have a horse in the race, and despite the
ravings of Cantanker, I never felt like I was a part of what they were trying to do. The energy and effort putting together the Biennial is tremendous. So is the thinking behind it - bridging the distances of the Texas art scene. Austin is forty minutes from San Antonio, and about three and a half hours from Dallas and Houston. Still, Texas as a whole is fractured - with little crossover, interest, and
collaboration between the growing metroplexes. I've always found this fact to be utterly disturbing - these are the 38th, 29th, 7th and 5th largest metropolitan areas in the country - and there is little rhythm or connections beyond being located in the godforsaken state. The Biennial received over 800 applicants to the show, so perhaps in just its second run through, things are beginning to change.
Despite the panel of jurors and the work in the show, the event is, amazingly, one of my favorite grouping of openings. Perhaps it has something to do with hordes of rejected artists at the receptions, most in the same boat of not being in the show, or it could simply be the importance and scale of a statewide art event, but the openings have a buzz and hype about them that make you want to partake and explore.
Overall, the show was a dizzying affair to take in. The openings were loud, raucous affairs with their share of mingling, name dropping, and drinks and carried with them a very approachable, informal style. There was a lot of work on display - 38 artists working in all varieties of mediums - from video, installation, photography, painting, collage and sculpture. Each venue was filled with just slightly less than an overwhelming amount of work.
One of the drawbacks of the scale of the show was the limitations on each artist. Most artists were limited to one, perhaps two pieces of work, which hampers any real understanding of the work at all, and almost negates any affect at all. It becomes easier to dismiss the work this way, without the option of becoming invested in it.
I'll have to admit there is also a certain euphoria in the Biennial's crowd, as evidenced by the packed houses and nightly after-parties. I met a few of the artists in the show, shared drinks, and swapped tales and impromptu critiques on a nightly basis. Gallery owners, collectors, and artists crossed paths and mingled with a reckless abandon. Despite the statewide nature of the event, the press coverage seemed limited, despite a big push by Cantanker, which rolled
out an issue about Texas regionalism, and the efforts of the energized staff at the Austin Chronicle.
I talked to a wide variety of folks over the course of the Biennial - from the openings to watching over the installation at the Bolm Gallery. I always stressed the importance of the event - how much its grown and become legitimized by virtue of its second act. Despite whatever reservations people have about the work, venues or manner in which the event is approached, the Texas Biennial has the potential to be the Great. By tying together the expansive Texas art scene, between cities, artists, collectors and gallery
owners, the resulting interaction can help fill a big cultural void in this forsaken land of myth.
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