To begin, I feel as though I need to paraphrase Robin Wood, a regular contributor to Art Forum magazine. In regard to the inherent differences between review and critique she states “ I like to make a simple distinction between a reviewer and a critic: the reviewer writes for those who haven’t seen a film [or in this case an work of art], telling readers whether they shouldn’t and offering a fairly clear idea of what the [work] is and does; the critic assumes the reader has seen it, making a […] synopsis superfluous, and attempts to engage him or her in an imaginary dialogue about its content, its degree of success, its value. The great literary critic F.R. Leavis summed up very succinctly the ideal critical exchange: “This is so, isn’t it?” ”Yes, but…” “ So, to begin, I feel embarrassed contradicting Wood’s assertion by beginning with something of an overview, but old habits are hard to break.

In his essay, for the exhibit currently on at the SFU gallery (until May 3) by Robert Morris, curator Bill Jeffries writes “Robert Morris originally created The Birthday Boy in 2004 for the Academia Gallery in Florence, on the occasion of the 500th anniversary of Michaelangelo’s David. […]. Morris has taught at length about the nature of sculpture and its history, and he has put some of those thoughts into The Birthday Boy – a film that purports to analyze one particular work of art in depth, while questioning the nature of the lecture as a form. Morris dissects the very model that university life is largely premised on: the lecture, which is the primary means of transmitting information from faculty to students.

The Birthday Boy is a dual-screen projection showing simultaneous 35-minute lectures on David on opposing walls, given by two “art historians” – one male, one female. The art historians present in the typical lecture format, illustrating their points with pictures relating to their commentary. In each talk, David undergoes a metamorphosis that is seemingly in response to the commentary aimed at the work. Morris’ video examines in detail, and with no small amount of humour, the complex relation that exists between the work of art and the commentary applied to it, whether scholarly or merely opinionated.” The two lecturers stand, predictably, behind lecterns reading from their notes addressing their respective audiences, in both cases they address not only us, the gallery goers, but (theoretically) each other as well. To the immediate left of each lecturer resides a bottle of wine atop a small table. Throughout the duration of the lectures the speakers imbibe glass after glass of wine; each dutifully replenished by an off screen ‘helper’ visible only by the occasional arm projecting into the shot to pour another glass. The effects of the intoxicant loosen not only the lecturers’ postures, but their opinions as well. For a more detailed description of the work I have attached a link to Marsha Lederman’s review written for the Globe and Mail’s April 1st edition.

To again paraphrase from Bill Jeffries’ essay, he writes: “Morris’ video addresses the nature of cultural commentary and the ways in which it can itself go far astray; the video examines how commentary can, for better or for worse, effect the work of art itself and how the lecture process, for all it’s virtues, can easily become theatre. The Birthday Boy raises many questions about art, and more specifically, about sculpture. As a result of this video, a sculpture that many consider an uncompromised masterpiece may be reconsidered as part of a much more complex agenda of human power relations, as well as religious and social history.”

In many tertiary institutions, the Emily Carr Institute among them, the critique of institution and institutional pedagogy is not only accepted, it is encouraged. For this reason, in my opinion, the installation of The Birthday Boy in the gallery at the Simon Fraser University Gallery feels like a case of preaching to the choir. Morris’ piece is about context. It is about the context that is responsible for the production of works of art: in this case Michaelangelo’s David. And, it is about the context of time and place that inevitably changes, alters and evolves the meaning of works and therefore changes the function of those particular works of art throughout time. In this case, Morris examines the form of the pedagogical lecture as example to place David within a contemporary context to examine the ‘role’ the statue currently plays, and has historically played. There is a certain irony then, perhaps intentional or not, that as Morris is elucidating how David has been metamorphosed into its modern day status of kitsch object, that Morris’ own work, placed at SFU, is emptied out of its own didactic power and itself becomes trite…verging on kitsch. For the art scholar at least – no, there is nothing ‘new’ to be gleaned from The Birthday Boy. However, when we consider the original context of The Birthday Boy at the Accademia Gallery in Florence, the building that now houses David, and the fact that T.B.B. was created specifically for the statue’s 500th birthday, we can acknowledge the power and justifiability of Morris’ piece.

I attended the opening of The Birthday Boy on Saturday, the 29th of March. The opening was from three to five. When I arrived sometime before four o’clock with a friend, there were about ten of us in the gallery (Liz Magor and Neil Campbell made up a quarter of the others). I stayed for the duration of the two simultaneous projections, a little over an hour in total. I watched and nodded my head and laughed when appropriate. Then I left and didn’t give the installation much more thought. It was only later, after I had read my copy of the transcript and was given a copy of the Globe and Mail article (when I returned to talk with Bill Jeffries on the 2nd of April) that I was able to remove myself from my context and see the work in a different light. In her article for the Globe and Mail, Marsha Lederman goes as far as calling the Morris work ‘provocative’. I must admit, when I first read that I laughed out loud. Provocative? What a joke, I thought. In addition, when I returned to the gallery on the 2nd, a quarter letter-sized paper label had been attached to the sandwich board that sits outside of the gallery entrance. “This exhibit rated ‘R’, 18+ only. Contains scenes of nudity”, it read. I wasn’t sure if it was David’s penis or perhaps the penis of the old man, or the vulva -or more correctly the pubic hair-of the black woman that David morphs into during T.B.B. that had warranted the warning. But, it was this warning of exposed genitalia that made me think of the original intended context for The Birthday Boy, and in turn its intended audience. As an art student immersed within the discourse surrounding not only historical, but contemporary art and the questions surrounding the creation, circulation, classification and consumption of art throughout history, it is easy to forget how most people look at art. The Accademia in Florence, the home to David today, is as close to a ‘temple’ for the secular as any building that I can think of. Without a doubt, it is a building designed to house a sublime, venerated piece of, albeit secular (if one does not count humanism as a form of religion) holy art. When people ‘pilrgimage’ to THE David they are going to revere, dare I say worship, art. To the majority of people David is not kitsch. He is the embodiment of all that art should and can be. Not to begin to sound too much like Mr. Morris himself, but without a doubt David is the ‘big ticket’. To place The Birthday Boy within this context is like placing a phallus on a painting of the Pope in the Vatican, or like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa (Duchamp’s L.H.O.O.Q. makes an appearance in T.B.B.). Morris is not concerned with communicating to the artistic intelligentsia, he is after bigger fish. He wants to spread the gospel, his gospel to the widest audience possible.

In order to spread his word, Morris has employed the most predominate method of communication of our day. Undoubtedly, television, film and the moving picture is the way to reach and capture the attention of the most people. He has utilized the form of the lecture, one that is constructed for the elitist intelligentsia, and undermined its authority while at the same time employing it to communicate to those outside of its usual demographic. And, he has used video as a tool to engage and connect with that audience. By exhibiting The Birthday Boy alongside David in the Accademia he is bringing the discourse of art to the people.

By sheer luck, or studious consideration, the exhibition of The Birthday Boy at the Simon Fraser university Morris is forcing us, the artistic intelligentsia, to step outside of our own contexts and consider ‘our’ public: less informed, less educated and –most importantly- less indoctrinated. We are forced to consider the contexts in which our works will exist, and in turn question the importance that we are suffusing into our own work. As the closing lines of The Birthday Boy state, we must consider those who would rather “Turn on the TV.”

Please, make the trip out to SFU. See the campus, see the show. And then ask yourselves: This is so, isn’t it?

A transcript of The Birthday Boy by Robert Morris is available upon request.

Special thanks to Bill Jeffries, Director/Curator SFU Gallery