The relocation of the Whitney Museum beckons a new wave of artists to the institution’s new neighborhood: the Meatpacking District. As the leading museum of contemporary art in the United States, the Whitney Museum reexamines American art and culture in the new exhibition America is Hard to See.

While the location is conceptually and literally out of my comfort zone, because Gansevoort Street seemed to be the very center of a place I often avoided in New York City because of the commercial and gilded stereotypes I identified the Meatpacking District with, it brought me to reflect on the bigger picture of The Whitney’s mission to understand and question established conventions.

The exhibition America is Hard to See was the focus of my visit and coupled with the airy feeling of a new museum, high ceilings, and spacious floors, The Whitney caters to and encourages an exploration of the twenty-three thematic chapters found in the building.

Running People at 2,616,216 (1978–79) by Jonathan Borofsky installed on the West Ambulatory, 5th floor, the inaugural exhibition, America Is Hard to See (May 1–September 27, 2015). Whitney Museum of American Art, New York. Photograph © Nic Lehoux
Credit to the Whitney Museum for this picture

The atmosphere was always reminding me that art here was loved, a message conveyed through the omnipresent art works (The inside of an elevator was a woven basket and the staircase has a stream of light bulbs spiraling downwards). The intimacy and accessibility of the art pieces presented led me to reflect on how I identify as an American, especially through the underlying sociopolitical themes in a spectrum of pieces ; ranging from 9/11 themed pieces to pieces that reinforced how underrepresented POC are in the entertainment industry.

The convenience of such a diverse narrative is that it allows the viewer to become aware of their assumptions, biases and expectations of American culture as result of the juxtaposition of preconceived notions of American artists to their actual work. The environment The Whitney creates through its many topics of art call viewers to revise and challenge conventions.

The fourteen black and white series of self-portraits by Adrian Piper, Food for the Spirit, embodies what The Whitney has claimed to stand for and what I’m confirming they stand for: a new perspective. In each image, Piper stands naked holding her camera before a mirror. Her focus is imultaneously on the viewer and on herself. The photos get increasingly dark and are in low-contrast because it illustrates Piper almost disappearing from view. The darkness captures a quiet intimacy and while at first glance it seems as a straight execution of a simple idea, deprived of color and with the most basic of camerawork, the concept behind Piper’s bold photos is what makes the viewer stand around and fathom what exactly is so intriguing about what seems to be a selfie. Piper stands in this room and seems to diminish; an unsettling process to view in a series of photographs. I began to think that maybe she was documenting the way she felt about herself on the inside (small to the world, nothing of worth) and that seeing herself in the impression of vanishing was satisfying to her.

Upon further review (to the curator card) it was sort of the exact opposite and realizing the parallels between my interpretation and the artist’s message is all what inquisition is about; it’s what the exploration of The Whitney is about. These photos were taken while she was reading Critique of Pure Reason by Immanuel Kant while following a severe diet. Apparently she was so invested in her alienation, the more she felt like she was losing her physical identity, she would reassure herself of her existence by starting the routine of photographing herself in front of the mirror. The photos have a ghostly quality and convince me more that she was becoming transcendental, so it’s interesting how these same photos became her tool of taking control of her own image and confirmation of being. Despite my personal feelings, it still communicates how these photos were underscoring her ability to think “I’m still here.” The photoset is ephemeral in the sense that I couldn’t stop looking at her, but moreso I couldn’t stop thinking about how it must have been a difficult process to reclaim and articulate self-definition. In a way, I think we all grapple with the idea of who we are and who we want to be. My thought process from when I first looked at this photo to my last demonstrates how The Whitney museum has created a history of its own stories that will transport viewers into the shoes of these artists; making a segway into the bigger questions the museum will leave you asking (and maybe, resolving.)