The conceptual artist's latest installation is disruptive, bombarding, and overwhelming—but in a good way.
Some written words we are obligated to obey ("No Parking"). Others we might turn away from ("Homeless, Please Help"). Then there's the everyday Metro dread ("If You See Something, Say Something") and the renegade thought-provokers ("Take Your Pleasure Seriously," scratched into cement near Dupont Circle).
Throughout her career, conceptual artist Barbara Kruger has deployed the written word with drama, through massive text laid over stark images on billboards, murals, and large-scale installations. Lately, the New York- and Los Angeles-based artist has taken to "wrapping" entire floors, elevators, and rooms of world-class museums and galleries with her works—huge, white type on bold red-and-black backgrounds, printed on industrial vinyl and applied in neck-craning ways that engage the viewer in a distinctly challenging, physical experience of language.
"Belief+Doubt," opening this week at the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden in Washington, D.C., is Kruger's latest room-wrap project, an immersive piece that covers nearly every surface of a busy pass-through space on the museum's lower floor. The commissioned work, which will stay installed for three years, is literally unavoidable: Board the escalator down to the smaller galleries, and "DON'T LOOK DOWN ON ANYONE" looms above your head. Check your coat, and you're pondering Malcolm X: "GIVE YOUR BRAIN AS MUCH ATTENTION AS YOU DO YOUR HAIR AND YOU'LL BE A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER OFF." Need to use the bathroom? You'll face a wall of confrontation ("FORGET EVERYTHING") before noticing the tiny smiley faces Kruger has placed to indicate the W/Cs.
It's an overwhelming sensory experience, and that's calculated: To have to bend, duck, walk across and adjust one's eyes to make sense of the piece is to be forced to engage with its content. (On a recent visit, a pair of art-loving parents wheeled their infant son onto part of the installation's floor—"WHO DIES FIRST? WHO LAUGHS LAST?"—only to have him start bawling immediately.)
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"I think my work engages a public audience because I am that audience," says Kruger. "I have a relatively short attention span. I think there's an accessibility about my work that people respond to. I understand what it means to read standing up or read in public."
Kruger's aphorisms pack as much of the punch as her aggressive visuals do. Part of that is a nervy (and often unnerving) use of direct address. The viewer is instantly implicated in the work, and dodging the conversation is impossible.
"WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU LAUGHED?" demands a panel near the ladies' room. It's kind of a personal question. Are you being encouraged to recall a fond memory? Chastised for living your life all wrong?
"Direct address has really been a motor of my work," she says. "A lot of these are questions we should all be asking ourselves, just about the struggle to try to live an examined life."
For all her wit—the Hirshhorn piece travels into the gift shop, where wallets and bags she designed will be for sale as text chides, "CRAVE IT BUY IT FORGET IT"—Kruger is a doubter. And she wants you to be, too.
"Doubt is important. And for some people, it's something to be feared," she says. "I think doubtlessness can be very scary. The world has changed. Access to so-called information has changed. It's changed the way we read; in fact, most people don't read anymore, except for things that are short."
Kruger, 67, has been wrapping rooms this way for more than 15 years, with recent installations at the Schirn Kunsthalle in Frankfurt and LACMA in Los Angeles. The pieces are a bridge of sorts between her early, more "guerrilla" public works—large-scale billboard silkscreens and murals—and the more gallery-geared video pieces she began working with in the 90s. Multichannel installations such as 1997's "Power Pleasure Desire Disgust" and 2010's "The Globe Shrinks" expanded on Kruger's use of phrases and direct address, with projected text and overlapping loops of live subjects speaking directly to the camera.
"I like to engage the public out of doors and in the gallery realm, too," she says. "Its important to deal with as many sites as you can to make your meanings. I enjoy art as commentary, as reports of what it means to be alive, whether it's painting or sculpture, video, film, everything."
Kruger has long used her work to comment on broad themes of gender (1987's "Untitled (We don't need another hero)," a red stripe of text cutting through a '50s images a little boy flexing for a small girl); commercialism (1987's "Untitled (I shop therefore I am)," a phrase both funny and empty); and the overall experience of being a human (1996's "Don't Be A Jerk," timeless advice laid over an image of an open eye glaring right at you). Her pithy wording and incongruous imagery choices let messages lodge in the mind the way advertisements do—unfolding later into the fullness of their open-ended meaning for each viewer.