Michael Jackson, group dance in Beat It, very reminiscent of the Jets and Sharks in West Side Story

Keeping Together in Time: Dance and Drill in Human History by historian William H. McNeill talks about the physical and emotional underpinnings of dance and drill and other human synchronous movement. We all love to dance and we fall easily into step with each other when walking; even aerobics classes are satisfying whereas doing aerobics by yourself is odious.  Why is that? McNeill says there’s something in the human bones and psyche that compels us to move together — and then rewards us for doing so. We feel good when moving together with others. There’s a spirit of group cohesion and shared emotion that happens, some pack animal body-and-mind-happiness that occurs.

Marching band stepping together.

Our ancestors learned this, and dancing allowed them to bond. Dancing may even have helped foster language development (chanting being a natural partner with dance). Moving together rhythmically helped Homo Sapiens evolve and dominate the landscape over non-dancing and non-marching species. Governments have corraled group movement for use in the army — Hitler of course abused this human love of mass physical movement with his goose-stepping soldiers and Heil Hitlering citizens.

University of Michigan graduation. Football crowds often do the human wave, another way to move together in time.

In very early times, organized religions allowed group dancing as a way to commune with god. (One of the byproducts of the rhythmic dancing for some people is the onset of a trance state, seen as a direct communication with god.) The Quakers and the Shakers got their names from the group movements associated with their religions according to McNeil.

Mardi Gras, Bourbon Street New Orleans, crowd in unison hoping to get some beads. Far from a mystical religious experience...or who knows, maybe for some it is.

Visual representations of dance, drill and other synchronous movement

Image of a battle in the War of 1812. By Oleg Parhaiev, Russia

McNeill’s book got me thinking about visual representations of dance and drill and about visual repetition motifs in general. And here’s what I think: That even if you’re not physically moving but are observing dance or drill — or are looking at a visual representation in 2-D of dance or drill — the visual image triggers a similar pack-response as your eyes move around the image and pick up the the rhythmic movements  and register them on you.

Fra Angelico. Early religious paintings often repeated motifs like halos and body stances to achieve visual harmony

And while there’s less of a physical response when looking at a 2-D image than there is to looking at a video (after all, there’s no music to enhance the effects), there is still something immediately satisfying when you look at a work with a repeat motif of bodies moving together.

Busby Berkeley movies in the 1930s specialized in images of group motion. This is a still from Footlight Parade.

Popular culture and art both love these movement spectacles. Think of Busby Berkeley (watch video) and the Rockettes; the human wave at college football games; and the standing and singing of national anthems everywhere. Think the Olympic parade and church rituals (Catholic ritual when I grew up was all about standing sitting and kneeling en masse triggered by some unseen signal–all while chanting unknowable Latin words in haunting melodies). In choreographed dance for the stage, especially in musical theatre, often it’s the group numbers that bring the house down.

Breughel's Wedding Dance in a Barn shows a whole town dancing it up.

Certainly artists have always loved making images of synchronous bodies in motion. McNeill’s book has pictures of a Minoan Crete harvester vase from 1500 BC that shows people dancing and singing in time: Medievalists painted legions of angels (and legions of praying sinners) in synchronous harmony; Breughel painted peasants dancing at a wedding; and many artists working for governments have drawn, painted and photographed army battalions in formation.

Sandra Scolnik, painting from the New York art fairs in 2007.

In our day Matthew Barney, one of our age’s great visual image-makers, has a scene of a chorus of dancing girls ala Busby Berkeley in one of his Cremaster films.

Matthew Barney, from the Cremaster series.

Visual representations of repeat patterns

Bruce Pollock, a Philadelphia artist, makes mandala-like paintings.

Mandalas and other abstract art designs with intricate repeat patterns have a similar bodily appeal. Mandalas are used for meditation and can produce calm or trance; Op Art is about provoking a bodily/retinal response of a different kind.  Standing in front of a Bridget Riley painting triggers my flight response.  (For more about Op Art check out this website.)

Edna Andrade was a Philadelphia practitioner of op art.

Jackson Pollock’s works are like melted mandalas.

Jackson Pollock, Number 1, 1950 (Lavender Mist)

One reason that works of abstract repeat patterns like those of Agnes Martin and Brice Marden are popular and have helped spawn an entire universe of artists working in similar fashion is that the works are satisfying to look at and make.

Brice Marden, Marden, Brice, Chinese Dancing, Oil on canvas, 60 x 108 inches, from the UBS collection

I’m not sure why all this fascinates but it seems that there’s a human need for perfection expressed in the desire to move together and make images of repetitive movements.  We know we’re not perfect and maybe this is all a way of saying even though perfection is not possible we can get pretty close with these bodily and emotionally satisfying movements and representations.

Sandra Scolnik’s community of one at CRG at the Armory

All of Sandra Scolnik‘s women are the same woman and they’re all reminiscent of devotional paintings from the Rennaissance when patrons could have themselves inserted into works depicting religious scenes. I love the wry commentary on narcissism.

Nick Cave at the Armory-Jack Shainman

Nick Cave, a fabulous object maker, has a community of birds, beads and flowers featured in this work whose theme was either eco or Spring.

David Hevel at Schroeder Romero at Pulse.

David Hevel’s monkey/bird/flower sculpture is the wilder side of Spring.

Adrian Pelletier and Conrad Ventur of Useless magazine.

The editor/publisher and art director of Useless magazine were a community of two (backed up by a bigger community of writers and photographers and advertisers) promoting their publication. Adrian Pelletier (l) is the art director and Conrad Ventur is the editor/publisher.

Adrian van der Ploeg at Volta-Haas and Fischer, Rotterdam. Video game players in Beijing.

Dutch artist Adrian van der Ploeg researched online video game communities and, as the gallerist told us, tore the kids away from their machines and got them to pose for him. He did this in Holland and Belgium…and then in Beijing a year later. The photos are a little heartbreaking. The kids are young and portrayed with the inky background behind them they have the force of a memorial.

Adrian van der Ploeg at Volta, Haas and Fischer. These photos were of video gamers in Holland and Belgium.

Luis Gispert at the Armory-Zach Feuer

Cheerleading communities feature in Luis Gispert‘s photos. Above is a great seance-like photo (or are they letting their nails dry?). And Katie Grinnan‘s papier mache cheerleaders (in an unbeatable shade of fire engine red) echo across the pier at ACME’s booth. For all its bigness this work has far less to offer than Gispert’s mysterious and obsessive works focused on Latina high school culture.

Katie Grinnan at ACME at the Armory.

Hans Eijkelboom at Scope 2×2 Projects

Dutch photographer Hans Eijkelboom‘s photos at Scope portrayed the community of like-minded strangers who all wear (in one example) skull-emblazoned hoodies or carry (in another example) the same Abercrombie and Fitch bag in exactly the same way.

International Festival at Volta-Fruit and Flower Deli

We passed this little bar in a booth at Volta and I said I bet it’s a performance. Sure enough, Volta’s press materials say it is the Swedish Collective International Festival which set up the bar including the confetti rug floor. I grabbed the shot mainly to showcase the confetti–which is part of another subtheme that appears everywhere-polka dots!

Postal

Fawad Khan’s installation at Scope-33 Bond.

Fawad Khan‘s mail truck and green-glowing mailbox were jammed in a small space at Scope–actually it wasn’t so small. The truck was a real truck after all and that’s pretty big. The gallerist said the artist, who is American but grew up in Pakistan makes art referring to his life in Pakistan and the random explosions and mix of life and violence there.

Ken Solomon at Volta-Josee Bienvenu

Ken Solomon made stamps of the presidential candidates and his project involved you voting on your choice by pasting a stamp on an envelope and putting it in the box. Note the many blue Obama stamps inside including mine and Libby’s! The results of the voting will be announced at Solomon’s show at Josee Bienvenu in April.

Skulls

Tony Oursler, Armory-Lisson Gallery, Mutant Skull, 1997-98

Skulls are always big (Damian Hirst, with his diamond-skull, did not spawn an industry as much as capitalize on one of art’s favorite motifs.) Many many kitsch and serious skulls in evidence. These are three of my favorites.

Portia Munson skull at Pulse. I like the Archimboldo ambiance.

Allison Schulnik, Scope -Mike Weiss Gallery

Flowers at Macys

Stephanie at Macy’s

Finally, we left Volta and walked west on 34th St. with Barry and James. As we got to Macy’s James asked if we’d ever gone to Macy’s Flower show. No, we hadn’t. Either had they so we all dashed inside for a free flower extravaganza that included a special unannounced appearance by this lovely cross dresser who, when I asked her what her name was said “Stephanie, I’m almost 8.”