The Whitney Biennial is one of the most anticipated exhibitions in the United States of America. Since its inception in 1932 as an annual exhibition, the show at the Whitney Museum of American Art, as the official statement says, has been the longest-running survey of American art, having boosted the careers of artists like Jackson Pollock and Jeff Koons, to name a few. However, as museums in the US have been working to redefine American Art, a renowned biennial that claims to be a survey of American Art is scrutinised by critics and curators accordingly.

The 81^st Whitney Biennial brings forth a completely new approach to looking at the categorisation of American Art in the most unexpected way. It is about society as a whole and what influences and impacts it, or more specifically a mirror of American society. The exhibition organises art according to events influencing social commentaries, such as the climate crisis, colonialism, identity, gender, race and culture and artificial intelligence.

Subtitled Even Better Than the Real Thing, the Whitney Biennial 2024 is more or less a roundup of everything that happened and has influenced the American continent over the last two years. The press release mentions that the “Biennial focuses on notions of ‘the real'." Curators Chrissie Iles and Meg Onli expanded this thought to say, “This apex (of society) has been brought on by the introduction of machine learning models to daily life and media, including the use of artificial intelligence and society’s complex relationship to the body, the fluidity of identity and the precariousness of the natural world.”

The theme for the biennial may be generic, but the selection of artists is well-researched and diverse to ‘safely’ create a list that would raise as few questions as possible. Multimedia artworks and sculptures are the core of the show and every projection room has its own personality, which is critical in presenting the works of 71 artists and collectives. The biennial isn’t overwhelming or overcrowded and each artwork is a statement of how an artist or collective thinks, responds and creates.

Diane Severin Nguyen’s film installation In Her Time (Iris’s Version) (2023-24) is projected in a pink-themed room with ribbons covering the walls and a daybed for visitors to recline and see the video. The film depicts an actress named Iris as she rehearses for a leading role in a historical war film about the Nanjing Massacre of 1937 by the Japanese Imperial Army during the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937-45). The contrast between the film’s theme and the work’s presentation is an intriguing way to examine how historical narrative, narration and perception vary with time and generations. Clarissa Tossin’s film Mojo’q che b’ixan ri ixkanulab’/Antes de que los volcanes canten/Before the Volcanoes Sing (2022), a collaboration with the K’iche ’Kaqchiquel poet Rosa Chávez and the Ixil Maya artist Tohil Fidel Brito Bernal, presents Mayan culture through a contemporary lens. The film shows the Mayan beliefs and activities of reclamation and recreation from a modern perspective, emphasising cultural values over dramatised superstitions that attract colonial interest. Sharon Hayes’ Ricerche: four (2004) is a series of videos in which the artist asks questions of gender and sexuality and underscores the endurance of the chosen community. These videos are presented to viewers as a casual outdoor gathering space with non-uniform chairs facing a TV, asking how the idea of gathering has changed in American culture over the past few years.

A personal favourite is British artist Isaac Julien’s sculpture and video installation, Once Again…(Statues Never Die) produced in 2022, which asks: “Who gets to define Black modernism? Who has the authority to speak? How do men negotiate power or queer desire?” At the entrance of the room, greeting you to answer these questions is a five-screen film installation that includes a display of sculptures by Richmond Barthé and 2019 Biennial artist Matthew Angelo Harrison. The installation features interwoven stories addressing the dialogue between American collector Albert C. Barnes and the Harlem Renaissance philosopher Alain Locke, as well as appearances by the poet Langston Hughes, in a critique of colonialism, cultural valuation and queer desire. Julien’s sculpture is not just a multimedia installation; it’s a layered conversation on representation and history as we know it, encouraging the visitor to sit, view and reflect. The Biennial also presents an impressive set of installations that discuss socially important issues including Carmen Winant’s The Last Safe Abortion (2024), composed of 2500 photographs of the ordinary, daily tasks required to provide abortion health care.

Among the works presented at the Biennial, one of the most intriguing installations was we must stop imagining apocalypse/genocide + we must imagine liberation (2024) by Native American poet and activist, Demian DinéYazhi’. In neon red light, the text emerges from the artist’s reflections on Indigenous resistance movements and pays homage to Klee Benally, a Diné activist, musician and friend of the artist. The work is placed by the glass windows of the museum’s west side facing the Hudson River, making a strong statement for not just museum visitors but also people on the street, looking at the architectural marvel designed by Renzo Piano. The hidden flickering lights say "Free Palestine”, which can only be noticed from afar, outside the museum.

Other noteworthy sculptures at the biennial include Lotus L. Kang’s In Cascades (2023), Julia Phillips Mediator (2020) and Rose B. Simpson’s Daughter 1-4 (2023-24). Eddie Rodolfo Aparicio’s Paloma Blanca Deja Volar/White Dove Let us Fly (2024), made from modified amber, transforms over time. The stable sculptural form slowly disintegrates into pieces, showering light on how memory and trauma are held in the body and shift over time. With a self-playing keyboard in the room, Nikita Gale’s TEMPO RUBATO (STOLEN TIME) (2023-24) put forth the thought that “bodies are never entirely absent from what we refer to as technology.”

“Even Better Than The Real Thing” is, of course, ironic. As much as the real world is in an alarming state, when you step into the art of these unsettling times, there is an ease to be found. The experience, most definitely, is better than the real thing. At the Whitney Biennial 2024, art educates, comforts and builds a sanctum where you are well informed about the current state of the world. But, how much does that, in reality, reshape your thoughts and impact your opinions once you step out of the museum? Is it making a difference in how you live or is the Biennial just another exhibition where you enjoy the romanticised turmoil of the underrepresented and underprivileged for an evening? Activist Cesar A. Cruz said, “Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” It would be an interesting social experiment to examine who is comforted by the biennial and who is disturbed; call it “a survey of American society”.

But contrary to what some critics have said, the Whitney Biennial 2024 is not a “safe” exhibition; it speaks to how “society is at a critical inflection point,” as the museum mentions. Most of the works confront the historical struggles of people from marginalised races and genders, the majority of which were inflicted as a consequence of the colonial project. To present these works in a land that has historically believed and used the term “manifest destiny” can very well be perceived as a satirical examination of the real. Even Better Than the Real Thing is an attempt to talk about important social concerns without having to talk about them. You have a space, you have the art and what you perceive from it and how it impacts you is all on you.

Whitney Biennial 2024: ‘Even Better Than the Real Thing’ is on view until August 11, 2024.

(Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official position of STIR or its editors.)