I entered Marlborough Gallery wondering if I indeed “may never seen an art gallery the same way again” as Brooklyn artist William Powhida boldly envisages in the gallery’s press release of his self-titled show. Rather than the usual air-conditioned perfume, I inhaled the scent of a hot stack of fresh pizzas where press releases and publicity packets usually sit. A photographer fervently documented a ping-pong match, men surrounded a poker table and seemed to challenge me to a game with their eyes. I kept walking, past velvet-roped leather couches and absinthe bottles. A painting called “Portrait of a Genius” by Tom Sanford shows a business casual Powhida holding a bottle of liquor and releasing a dove as a devoted blonde woman clutches his leg.
At the opening night an actor playing Powhida (who matched the “genius” in the painting) arrived in a Mercedes convertible, drinking champagne as women clutched onto his sides. He drank, smoked, and jerked people around while surrounded by an entourage of security and more groupies.
I think Kyle Chayka at ARTINFO hit the nail on the head when he says that, "...for contemporary art, reality and is parody are often so close as to be indistinguishable. What could be ironic satire, a knowing wink, might also end up as an ironic failure to satirize--funny and sad not for truth-telling and bullshit-cutting but for its own self-reflexive victimization, like a joke that falls flat. A large portion of the Marlborough audience wasn't in on the joke; they were there to see and be seen, and they were, regardless of the artist spectacle."
But does that prove Powhida's point all the more effectively? Does filtering subversion through the mainstream expose its cracks or buy into it? Does doing both destroy his credibility?
POWHIDA is on view at Marlborough Gallery in Chelsea through August 12th
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