The title of Darren Baders new Whitney Museum installation, Fruits, Vegetables; Fruit and Vegetable Salad is fully self-explanatory. Through February 17, a vibrant array of producea bushy bulb of fennel, exotic elongated grapes, and morewill sit on 40 individual plinths across the museums eighth floor. Four times a week, per the artists instructions, theyll be harvested, chopped, and handed out as tiny salads with a side of olive oil, sea salt, and black pepper.

The museum acquired the work in 2015, purchasing a certificate of authenticity with instructions for installation. The work consists of fruits and vegetables totaling any even number between twelve and infinity, it read, not specifying the exact types but emphasizing the importance of variety. The point, according to Whitney senior curatorial assistant Christie Mitchell, is to highlight the inherent formal qualities of the titular itemsin Baders words, natures impeccable sculpture.

They do look so beautiful and kind of uncanny when theyre on these pedestals in the gallery, Mitchell says. For the five-week duration of the show, she and a team of art handlers will thoughtfully source the produce from Chelsea Market and FreshDirect themselves. Eating the work, Mitchell adds, creates a transformative, alchemical moment.

Online, however, where commentary about ridiculing the gullible viewer and eating the worst salad of my life abounds, skeptics pose an important question: Are we just being trolled?

Historically, fruits, vegetables and other edibles have been the favorite subject of still-life painters, colorful symbols of bounty and wealth. But actual food as sculpture, the lovechild between the still life and the readymade, is so often a particularly obnoxious product: conceptual art that plays out as a practical jokeor the other way around.

The prankster associations with food art run deep.And O.P. (Original Prankster) Piero Manzoni consecrated 70 hard-boiled eggs with his thumbprint in his 1960 piece, Consumption of Dynamic Art by the Art-devouring Public, then fed them to viewers in a quasi-communion ritual, another farce on the alleged sanctity of art. (He too used the word alchemical when describing his cans of Artists Shit, where are exactly what they said they were.

Adriana Lara, Installation (Banana Peel) (2008) at the New Museum Triennial. Courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons.

A decade ago, Adriana Lara deployed the banana peel as the ultimate sight gag on the floor of the New Museum triennial: She instructed that a security guard would eat one banana every day then randomly toss the skin, violating the immaculate gallery space with literal (and to detractors, conceptual) garbage. When collectors would buy images of bundled hot dogs and padlocked Taco Bell tacos from Brad Troemels Etsy, he would mail them the actual sculpturesmoldy or dripping with greaserather than the photographs.

Fairgoers take pictures of Maurizio Cattelans Comedian, for sale from Perrotin at Art Basel Miami Beach. Photo by Sarah Cascone.

But its Maurizio Cattelans Comedian that still stings in the collective memory. Depending on whom you asked, it was either a brilliant gesture or the nadir of artistic privilege: a banana duct-taped to a piece of art fair drywall, yours to recreate at home for the arbitrary price of $120,000. As the previous decade drew to a close, Comedian left us with questions about the art markets place in the latest of late-stage capitalism, our own pretentiousness, and whether these questions would count as the works true substance. As Comedians image subsumed the mainstream news cycle, the artist had achieved a true feat: for at least a full week, he held our attention captive, and with seemingly little effort.

Decades before Baders salad, Fluxus artist Alison Knowles served her own. Her performance piece Make a Salad debuted at the ICA London in 1962 as a kind of participatory concert30 people eating her dressed vegetables to a musical arrangement. Whenever you eat a salad, you are performing the piece, Knowles has said, presumably including Baders, too. The work has been scaled up and restaged to feed thousands: at the Tate in 2009, on the High Line for Earth Day 2012, and at Art Basel in 2016.

Alison Knowles, Make a Salad at the Highline in New York. Courtesy of the High Line.

These aforementioned works that are eaten or thrown away have no permanent physical bodythey exist as documentation, sometimes an image, sometimes instructions referred to as an event score. In conceptual art, its the thought that counts, according to critic Lucy Lippard, who literally wrote the book on dematerialization in 1973. She described a new groundswell of works in which [t]he idea is paramount and the material form is secondary, lightweight, ephemeral, cheap and/or dematerializedor edible. She also envisioned immateriality as an escape route from art-world commodity status, unable to foresee the kinds of prices a certificate could pull.

Roelof Louws Soul City (Pyramid of Oranges) (1967). Courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons.

Lippard wrote of the late Roelof Louw, whose in 1967 Soul City (Pyramid of Oranges), holds another clear precedent for Baders Fruits, Vegetables. In its original iteration, Louw had stacked almost 6,000 oranges into the shape of a pyramid, inviting viewers to take an orange and eat it, and to consider questions of viewer participation and the impermanence of form. Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art exhibitions manager Lauren Best, who exhibited Soul City in 2014, recalls all of the extremely cool visitors who have taken their orange from the bottom, sending the entire pyramid rolling across the museum floor. That is the interesting point of the piece, she assures. Its the patron who alters the form of the sculpture.

When the Tate acquired Soul City in 2014, the press balked at its 30,000 price tag. A Daily Mail article headlined Is this the craziest art installation yet? worked out the price to about 5 per orange, which is wholly inaccurate. On top of the 30,000, the museum also shoulders the cost of buying the oranges themselves. Over its four-month exhibition, SMoCA estimates it went through about 15,000.

The hazards of fresh products in a gallery setting have been well documented. Fuzzy fruits are bound to appear towards the bottom of Louws pile of oranges. And Lee Buls Majestic Splendor, an installation of sequined dead fish in plastic bags, has been pulled from exhibitions not once, but twice: first due to a refrigeration failure in 1997 that filled MoMA with an unbearable stench, then again at the Hayward Gallery in 2018, this time when its chemical antiseptic treatment spontaneously burst into flames.

Yoko Ono, Apple (1966). Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art.

Art destined to perish, however, does nicely lend itself to institutional critique: foods propensity to rot is also a potent vehicle for political allegory and existential quandaries. The replaceable ton of bananas in Paulo Nazareths 2011 Banana Market/Art Market evoke sentiments of labor and resource exploitation in Latin America. Yoko Onos 1966 Applean apple left to decay on a pedestalis a symbol of mortality. (John Lennon actually took a bite, later remembering, I didnt have much knowledge about avant garde or underground art, but the humor got me straight away.) And the 2,755 oily bologna slices pegged to Pope.Ls Claim (Whitney Version) initially smelled at the opening of the 2017 Whitney Biennial, but the odor reportedly improved as they cureda pun that refers to both the maturation of preserved meat and the act of healing.

Installation view of William Pope.L, Claim (Whitney Version) (2017). Image: Ben Davis.

Baders Fruits, Vegetables isnt a candidate for a long term collection display, Mitchell says, given the constant trips to Chelsea Market required to keep it fresh. Its also most definitely a troll. Works like this prod us for a reaction, towards the outer limits of what well accept as artespecially the volatile, ephemeral work that ripens, wilts, spoils, and disappears. There can be an exceptional visual, conceptual, and aesthetic merit to so many things in the world, the artist has said, including pineapples, fennel, and exotic elongated grapes. The resulting salad is a very polarizing joke. And if you dont like it, you dont have to eat it.

Read more:
A Brief History of Perishable Art: How Darren Baders Divisive Fruit Salad at the Whitney Fits Into a Ripe Tradition - artnet News

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