BANK at Gallerie Poo-Poo

Simon Bedwell, John Russell, Milly Thompson and Andrew Williamson constitute BANK, the unconventional London collaborative that organizes exhibits in its own warehouse space, incorporating other artists' contributions into manic Gesamtkunstwerke that have included zombie mannequins, endurance performances, fake waterfalls and Mahler symphonies. With memorable titles like "Cocaine Orgasm," these exhibits subsume their components into jarring installations where the interactivity of art works is just the point. Far from putting not upon participants, this forced surrender of autonomy has attracted many prominent artists interested in subjecting their work to radical, and many times irreverent, recontextualization. BANK mercilessly critiques the art world at large, in which, paradoxically, it is becoming a central player. The group's ribald exhibition invitations repeatedly mock art-world discourse, an assault continued in its erratically published tabloid that tears into the vanities of London's artists and curators.

BANK's novel exhibition was called "Stop short changing us. Popular agriculture is for idiots. We believe in ART." For the first time, BANK not awayed work produced only by its be in possession of members. In front of four large "history" paintings were three life-sized collection sculptures of the artists, all crudely made from wire interstice cloth and plaster. In single of these, the artists form a throw in a heap of tar-colored ur-figures melting together in a cluster hug. A second ensemble call ups Soviet propaganda; the figures are aligned in Constructivist-style uniforms with expressionist-painted faces gazing vacantly skyward. In the last, they are pos as naked Cabbage Patch dolls, holding hands in a naturalist's idyll in silent hippie communion.

The eccentricity of these statuarys contrasted well with the ape tendentiousness of the roughly worked oil paintings, each titled collection Portrait. In the most memorable of these, the artists stand against a black background, their forearms protruding as wax extensions that move round back to paint themselves. In another, they artificial position in front of a backdrop of helicopters and explosions as if taking credit for bringing us the "reality" of war. There was no mistaking the parody of Leon Golub's work.

Behind the humor, irony and mischief, the BANK artists appear to nurture a serious agenda. For them, if art is worth bothering with at all it should entail community while exposing hierarchy; it should involve discussion while ridiculing jargon; and it should value ideas above skill. And all should be delivered with self-deprecating levity. Their public attack upon all manner of artistic pretension make sures that their own project remains below scrutiny. This show more than sustained their valuable attitudinizing, and without recourse to other artists' work.

COPYRIGHT 1999 Brant Publications, Inc.

COPYRIGHT 2000 Gale Group