January 2010

While certainly atmospheric, the works included in the first series of rooms are grouped so as to resemble various sci-fi set pieces. The ephemeral glow of Doug Wheeler’s light piece, Untitled (1969), beams like an ambient square sun eclipsed by the congested smog of a sprawling city; Robert Irwin’s almost invisible, acrylic sculptures initially give the impression of an optical glitch but then materialize into alien objects that seem to hover in space; while James Turrell’s colored projections form 3-dimensional prisms which are deceptively ‘real’ in the angular corners of the room.

For all their obvious differences, Dyer offers a much-needed addendum to Houellebecq’s vision of bourgeois shiftlessness. In Dyer, shiftlessness takes the form of transcribed procrastination and backpacker storytelling; it means another trip, another essay, and a jumping-off point for casual criticism and philosophizing. In Houellebecq, it emerges as a symptom of societal decline, a natural byproduct of Western culture and a platform for advancing grand theories explaining it.

The installation is centered on a group of five pianos whose cabinets have been stripped away to expose their inner workings. Sound is produced by mechanical manipulation of the instruments in several ways; the automatic movement of keys on some resembles traditional player pianos, while the strings of others are plucked directly with a mechanical arm. One instrument consists solely of a grand piano’s soundboard, plate, and bass strings, which is tilted vertically and played with a device that strums along the length of the strings. Here, the copper coils that wrap around the steel core of the string are physically articulated, resulting in a low ratcheting sound that adds a distinct tension to the music.