The Container

The twentieth century—assisted by technological advances, wealth, and reformed ideas of modernity—started to create a shift in the way in which we look at art and value it. Auction houses have become ubiquitous, and so have international art fairs, proliferating a “global art market” where works of art can fetch many millions of dollars, and where the commodification of artwork is commonplace and a manifestation of social status and power.

These, of course, go against the grain of what art had ever intended to be—a tool for artists to communicate and define culture, and not merely its objectification by billionaires to assert  wealth and status. Is any work of art, as beautiful and sublime as it may be, really worth hundreds of millions of dollars? And what would the artists, if they were still alive today, think about our contemporary consumerist value we attach to their works? More than that, if a singular piece of art is so culturally significant, shouldn’t it be housed in a museum, in the public domain, where it can be viewed and appreciated, rather than in some rich person’s private home, away from public view?

Mark Kelner, an American artist, is exhibiting at The Container a series of works that deliberate exactly that. As in Kelner’s previous works, the approach is satirical and accessible, but showcases a social-political flair and a tongue-in-cheek aesthetics to reevaluate notions of consumerism and capitalism. The exhibition, Barcodes, features examples of modern and classical paintings that were sold for some of the highest sums of money in the last two decades, reimagined in silhouettes of geometric black and white lines, reminiscent of  barcodes, but also reducing the imagery and compositions to simplified and elemental forms.

The tension between the recognized compositions of internationally iconic and beloved images and the all-too-familiar appearance of barcodes, a contemporary symbol of consumerism, enable the viewer to reflect on the absurdity of the commodification of art. In true Kelner-style, the paintings are reformed to graphical representations that are poster-like in their adumbration and feature a pop art appeal that highlights their contradictory nature. They embrace through the language of commercial marketing the intersection of high art with the systems of global capitalism and false representation. It is the meeting point of high and low culture, with a nod to the impact consumerism has nowadays on all aspects of our lives. 

The newly imagined paintings, digitally printed on primed canvas, are all made to the original size of the model paintings. You would find at the exhibition Leonardo da Vinci’s Salvator Mundi, 65.5 cm x 48.7 cm, painted c. 1500, sold by Christie’s in 2017 for the exorbitant sum of USD450,312,500 (rumored to be purchased by Prince Mohammed bin Salman of Saudi Arabia), among less expensive pieces such as Amedeo Modigliani’s Nu couché, 60 cm × 92 cm, from 1917, auctioned by Christie’s in 2015 to the Collection of Liu Yiqian for USD170,405,000, and least expensive, the easily recognizable Andy Warhol’s Turquoise Marylin, 101 cm x 101 cm, 1964, a private sale in 2007 to the Collection of Steven Cohen for a mere USD80,000,000. The tear-inducing selection showcases in all ten pieces, most of them are recognizable from first look, despite the simplification and lack of detail.

The exhibition also enables the viewer to interact with the works. A QR code, scannable on a smartphone at the entrance to the exhibition (and in this catalogue), will provide viewers with additional information about the original paintings, and also direct visitors to a range of commercial products, designed by Kelner, bearing the barcode images. There, you would find basic commodities, such as face masks, postcards, and tote bags decorated with the barcode silhouettes, drawing attention to the absurdity of the commodification of art, not without taking a stab at the irony of it all.

The concept for the exhibition has been in the works for Kelner for a few years now, going back-and-forth from actively working on it, to focusing on other projects, and we are fortunate at The Container to give a first taste to our viewers in Tokyo of what is sure to become a growing project for Kelner, with a wide range of representations in the same body of work. The dialogue for this exhibition with Kelner is the fruit of a meeting we had in Washington DC in February 2020, just a couple of weeks before the breakout of the COVID-19 pandemic, thanks to the British-American artist Natalie Clark (who has exhibited her immersive installation Into the Curve at The Container in 2018). That introduction to Kelner and his work exemplifies not only my personal discovery of a new artist, but how art communities work to strengthen connections between artists and industry, and to assist in flourishing creativity, which has been the cornerstone of art production since the beginning of time. 

This new work by Kelner is a natural progression from his entire body of work, mostly realized in painting and poster-like designs. His long-standing interest in graphic design and marketing as tools to challenge political and social systems, whether consciously or not, usually take centerstage in the execution of his work. His recent outdoor installation, Pleasure’s Promise at Culture House in Washington, DC, for example,  is a 120-foot mural, that derides Newport’s cigarettes slogan “Alive with Pleasure!” while using the brand’s epochal typeface and orange and green signature colors to highlight the marketing deceit and to comment on the gentrification of communities. Other projects include his series Solaris and Sign & Wonders where through the use of references pulled from master artists to Soviet propaganda posters, he creates a new visual language by utilizing the reduction of imagery to lines and shapes.

This new exhibition at The Container marks Mark Kelner’s first exhibition in Japan. Tokyo, the consumerist’s capital of the world, seems to be most suitable to launch this new series of work, about commodification and consumerism, and to enable local visitors to interact with art and reflect on its value.