Artists ask: what did the ancient Greeks do for us?
“Greek Gotham” explores the longevity of ancient Greek concepts such as demokratia, eikonographía and eros
By S.S.M.
SIMILARITIES between contemporary New York and ancient Greece can seem few and far between, be it the topography or the fundamentals of the alphabet. Native New Yorkers might point towards the “We Are Happy to Serve You” disposable coffee cups—with their blue and white insignia, “Anthora” urns and Greek Key pattern—as a token example of the cultures’ intersection. Yet “Greek Gotham”, a new exhibition at the Dio Horia gallery in Mykonos, suggests that this is short-sighted—and seeks to bring the Hellenic and Manhattanite into direct conversation. After all, if New York is the foremost city of today, we have the Greeks to thank for the very concept of “cosmopolitanism”. A rallying cry for the urban melting pot came as early as 400 BC, when Diogenes of Sinope declared himself a “citizen of the world”.
Jeffrey Deitch, an art dealer and the former Director of the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles, says that an “uncanny ‘Modernism’” characterises ancient Greek artefacts and ceramics. “Greek Gotham” reverse-engineers this notion, and highlights the “ancient Greekness” of contemporary art. To do so, 16 artists based in New York—the undisputed capital of the contemporary art world—were tasked with capturing lofty concepts of Greek civilisation such as “empathy” and “polyphony”. Taylor McKimens explored stoicism with his acrylic paintings on wood; Mira Dancy conjured lyricism with sinuous lines of ink and acrylic statues.
To showcase the spirit of satiricism (from satyrikos, often used to refer to bawdy tragicomedy satyr plays), assume vivid astro focus (the moniker of Eli Sudbrack, a Brazil-born artist) was picked for his “Skydancers”. Parachute fabrics, fashioned into 17-foot-high billowing figures, are at once gendered yet inhuman with their colossal genitals and chests. Eroticism (from eros, sexually suggestive symbolism) is here expressed with tongue in cheek: instead of being about passion or bodily desire, Todd James mocks the beauty standards that spawn fake tans and severe dieting. One painting, entitled “I’ll Be Skipping Breakfast”, features a nude blonde seated on the floor: a modern odalisque with an empty facial expression, robust pubic hair and tanlines on her chest. The alleged markers of sexiness are, in fact, vulgar.
Nina Chanel Abney’s work revisits democracy (from demokratia: the political authority of the common people), initiated by the Athenians in 510 BC. Ms Abney’s cheerful palette and stencilled silhouettes belie her fraught depictions of race. “Listen, Linda! (YO)” features a black bust—a tear trickling from the right eye, eyebrows cocked in bewilderment—amid a bedlam of floating signs (a cross, hearts, Xs and arrows). Early democracy was progressive in overturning the rule of aristocracy and monarchy, but it excluded voting rights for huge swathes of the population. True inclusivity and fairness are still at large today, and the racism still felt in modern society is expressed in her paintings.
Naturally, concepts referring to aesthetics offer the most natural pairings. Anamorphosis (from anamorphoein, meaning a distorted image) is a trope in Robert Lazzarini’s work: he reproduces street signs using computer algorithms to skew optics. Iconography (from eikonographía, the imagery or symbolism of a work of art) remains the ultimate visual shorthand. In Greek mythology, Zeus had a thunderbolt, Dionysus grape vines, Poseidon a trident. Today, KAWS appropriates icons (Mickey Mouse, The Michelin Man) and imposes upon them his own signatures (XX eyes, skulls, gloves). His shorthand utilises commercial and cultural signifiers, and then twists them, dispossessing them of their intended connotation.
Inevitably, some of the marriages feel rather forced. But, taken as a whole, “Greek Gotham” points to the universality of the humanist questions that artists have—and likely always will—wrestle with. In the human quest for meaning, mythology, divinity, heroes and villains are still clear epistemological and expressive tools. Moreover, the malleability of art itself becomes apparent; its range of meanings can create evocative connections between unlikely cultures.
Maria Brito, the curator of the show, says that a reminder of the conversation between the ancient and the modern is timelier than ever. “People nowadays seem to have forgotten all of this, and focus on the Greek crisis and the Greek economy and how Greece doesn't ‘measure up’ to the Euro zone. We owe the Greeks so, so much,” she says, pointing to their advances in language, architecture, sculpture, astronomy, geometry, literature, logic and reasoning. The myriad influences of the ancient Greeks find form in this unusual and though-provoking exhibition. New York may have a unique identity of its own, but it is still grappling with 2,500 year-old concepts.
