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I’m looking at a photo of the White Cube gallery on my phone and thinking, how the heck have I missed a 12,000sq ft concrete building? But I have. I’ve been wondering around the block for twenty minutes, strolling past the East India Club (“home for dynamic, sociable and hardworking gentlemen” lol), past a blue plaque claiming Napoléon III lived here 1848, past several wood-panel fronted galleries, but with no sign of the white concrete box that is White Cube. I’m about to give up but I hear my son’s voice chime in my head - it’s the voice he uses when I can’t figure out the tv remote control: “Mum, you just need to try harder.”
White Cube has two galleries in London. This one in Mason’s Yard tries hard to be invisible, or “discrete” as the architect of the building describes it - i’d call it bloody difficult to find. The gallery is hidden within an old courtyard accessed via a covered alleyway. There is no helpful signage to the gallery and as I approach the immense concrete block of a building I notice there is actually zero signage on the business itself (let’s not forget a gallery is a business). I try and enter via two immense glass doors but have an embarrassing tussle with the handles, not knowing whether to push or pull (no signs, urgh!). I’m greeted by an immaculate elevated reception counter with two gallery assistants tapping away behind screens. Neither of them look up when I enter.
To the right I notice art on walls. “There’s the art then,” I mutter and amble into the gallery. White Cube is exactly what it says - actually, technically it’s two white cubes one on top of each other. The first gallery viewing room is cavernous, light filled, white-walled with the ubiquitous polished concrete floor and sparsely hung with art. I’ve come to see an exhibition by Mexican artist Gabriel Orozco who is showing numerous small paper works and a handful of large paintings on canvas. As I walk the perimeter of the hall, I study the small gouache, tempera, ink and graphite works and observe their delicate patterns and markings which remind me of eco-prints. At the end of the gallery there’s a huge painting on linen: a botanical feast of repeat patterns, geometry and line that feels very textile-like. It’s pretty and polished but I feel I’ve seen it several times before in contemporary quilt shows and printmaking exhibitions.
There’s a huddle of four young people in the middle of the gallery chatting loudly. Another gambles across the polished floor from the reception area shouting to his friends,
“They said there’s no price list!”
“What?!”
“You have to email the gallery people and ask.”
“Oh! So who are those people in reception?”
I smile. Welcome to the art world! Or rather the White Cube world.
As I complete my trip around the edge of the cube, there are more small works on paper. These hold my attention more than the large paintings; I enjoy their meditative quality and the repetition of organic forms. As I approach the last works in the room I see there’s a young man slumped up against the wall. He slides across the wall moving away from me as I approach: The gallery sitter. Or rather the gallery stander. I want to say, “They can’t afford to buy you a chair then?” but I opt for a sympathetic smile that gets no response and wonder if being forced to stand for eight hours a day is some hazing ritual for new interns.
I’m back in reception. There’s a set of stairs winding down to…another gallery? I hope so because I’m on my way down there but with no signage I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up outside the offices or storeroom. Or perhaps the room where all the signage is hidden ;) Fortunately, there IS another white cube, almost an exact replica of the first, except this gallery stander/slumper-up-the-wall is reading a book and wearing headphones. I know that must be against the rules. The work is hung as an echo of the upstairs gallery: small pieces in rows facing each other across the room leading the eye to larger works at the end of the gallery. I’m not so sure Orozco’s work benefits from such a sparse curation. The small works feel lost in the space and I have a sense they would show better in a more intimate setting or hung salon style in groupings so that visual connections between the works can be seen more easily. But what do I know? I always thought gallery sitters required a chair. I need the bathroom but there’s no toilet signs and there’s no way I’m going to ask, so I head back upstairs and after another fight with the glass doors I’m outside.
White Cube is a mega gallery: a monolith of the art world; the pinnacle of the art industry pyramid. But it’s boring. At least this show felt boring. And it’s unfriendly. I don’t even know why the gallery opens to the general public if they can’t be bothered to say hello when you enter or put labels on the works. There’s nothing inspirational or exciting or forward-thinking or disruptive about what White Cube does, and I’m sure the owner is okay with that. It’s elite, exclusive, old-fashioned, and actually irrelevant to the majority of us artists and art collectors. It’s for the 1% of the 1% which is why they make no effort with the rest of us 99.9%. Let’s face it, art shown in galleries such as White Cube is not bought by folks who walk in off the street; it’s acquired through deals that are made in private, usually with the assistance of an art advisor. It makes no difference to White Cube’s bottom line if I can’t find the gallery or a group of students can’t access the price list. And because of all that, White Cube has become a parody of itself. I walk away giggling at the absurdity of the place. A younger me would have found that experience embarrassing; I’d have felt out of place, not good enough to be in an upmarket gallery like White Cube. Thankfully, with age I’ve cultivated a BS antenna when it comes to the “traditional” art world and I’ve been in the art industry long enough to be able to laugh at it and to call it out when necessary. Sorry White Cube, that experience was unpleasant and your pretension did not serve the artist’s work. Also, I’m ordering you some push/pull stickers for those doors!
JC
Resources
I don’t think this was Orozco’s best work, it felt rather safe (maybe it’s what is selling right now in our economically fragile world). I prefer the installation works I’ve seen by Orozco, which you can find HERE
There’s a good potted history of Orozco’s career HERE
This artsy article is a good one if you’re interested in how the white cube became the dominating aesthetic of art galleries
My work-in-progress illustration of the art world pyramid:
Until next week.
You are spot on, my mate!
Have you been the the Pink Door in Seattle? Reminds me of the first time I was looking for the sign. There's no sign. It's literally a pinks door. Lol
Big, plain white walls bore me. Maybe I should paint of lounge area now. Lol