jordan wolfson riverboat song

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JORDAN WOLFSON: Riverboat song

We hear Riverboat song (2017-2018) before we see it. The first view of Jordan Wolfson’s sixteen-channel video installation is of its back, a hulking mass of wires, monitors and media players arranged in an upright grid on purple carpet that covers the gallery floor. Suspense is built into the approach: one has to round the corner of this monolith to access the main event. The other visitors can be seen before the video itself, an inversion of movie theaters where spectators silhouette the image. They react to Riverboat song with nervous laughter and grimaces, mirroring the video’s absurd and explicit content.

 A ragtag troupe of animated characters—three rats, a young boy, an alligator, and two horses—engage with the viewer in a series of vignettes. The alligator chants “death” to a crunchy drum beat as his tail wiggles in a gloryhole cut from the obituary section of a newspaper. The rats, chain smoking and clad in greasy shirts, are integrated into found footage of an airplane’s interior. One lounges in a vacant seat; another strolls down the aisle past oblivious passengers, a specter of indecency. The boy performs a provocative dance to the rapper Iggy Azalea’s song Work (2014) until large breasts and butt cheeks pop out of his clothing. He’s a mischievous, prepubescent redhead wearing a green vest, red shirt, and frayed capris—the animated version of the figure hung from chains and battered in Wolfson’s 2016 work Colored sculpture . In another scene, he twirls and dances as he gobbles up cadmium chartreuse fountains of urine that stream endlessly from his exposed penis—rabid delight in his bodily functions breaks bodily limitations. All the while he nods vigorously at the viewer and makes uninhibited eye contact as if daring us to keep looking. Destructively curious and crudely sexual, yet self-aware enough to know better, he’s a cartoon distillation of young male energy.

 A monologue voiced by Wolfson is delivered through the animated characters, who appear sequentially and address the viewer as a future lover. The boy begins by enumerating a string of wants: “I want to drink your blood,” “I want to dance naked for you to pop music,” etc. His desires alternate between disturbing and strangely sweet, but they’re expressed in an unwavering, matter-of-fact tone that indicates psychopathic detachment. The other characters deploy the same attitude: while the alligator takes a bubble bath, his phallic tail gesticulates as he muses, “I’d also like you to do things for me, like cook, or advise me on cleaning. Maybe even do it for me.” Gestures that are standard in relationships are drained of romance by the alligator’s impassivity; his words approach the language of abuse. Wolfson toys with context and tone in this way throughout the video, making the familiar objectionable and the objectionable banal.

The attitude of the characters takes on another form in a sequence of YouTube screen captures soundtracked by Otis Redding’s 1966 hit Try a Little Tenderness. Videos of white-on-black violence, a sexy woman dancing, artificially intelligent robots, and a tutorial on “The Best Way to Cut an Apple” are tactlessly played back-to-back with the same placid detachment exhibited by Wolfson’s characters. Otis Redding provides an ironic counterpoint as he sings, “Try a little tenderness; that's all you gotta do.” By recreating the adjacency of disparate genres of internet content, Wolfson challenges the viewer to distinguish between different kinds of visual stimulation. The disgust of witnessing violence and the satisfaction of seeing an apple about to be sliced are ostensibly two incomparable experiences, yet their proximity forms a hybrid experience—one in which signifiers are crosswired to confuse discomfort with pleasure, the exceptional with the mundane. Riverboat song is an exceedingly rich portrait of the anarchic circulation of media in the digital age.

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Jordan Wolfson review – shock jock with a baseball bat

A giant marionette dangles on a chain, rats smoke, a boy dances in urine and the artist beats a man to death ... a controversial new show explodes in a frenzy of cartoon sex and violence

A virtual reality headset over my eyes, headphones over my ears, a gallery assistant helps me grab the metal bar screwed to the plinth. “Hold on tight,” she says. Waiting in line, I watched a woman shudder, nearly overturning the plinth. Another ahead of me shook her head, trying to look somewhere else, but there was nowhere else to look. Someone else tore off the headset and walked away.

A view of the New York sky lurches to the mid-town street, where there’s a guy facing me on his knees. He looks glum. The artist, who I recognise, comes over, takes a swing and whacks him round the head with a baseball bat. The guy collapses, but the hitting doesn’t stop, pounding him again and again and stamping on his head, the body twitching insensible on the street. I cannot look away.

There is blood. It is such a nice day. Cars go by. There is even a song, or rather a Hebrew prayer, sung at Hanukkah at the lighting of the candles. The pounding doesn’t stop. A minute and a half in, it is over.

I’ve watched Jordan Wolfson’s Real violence a few times now. Drained of shock, I start to see the artist’s balletic moves, check the reactions of passing traffic, look for birds in the sky and technical giveaways; glitches between the human and the robotic. The chant jars.

Real violence caused a bit of controversy when it opened in March at New York’s Whitney Biennial . People queue to see it, some going especially to watch the animatronic model get whacked.

Wolfson , a 36-year-old Jewish New Yorker, is used to trouble. His 2012 film Raspberry Poser had animated Aids viruses and dancing condoms bouncing around downtown New York, onto car hoods and around swanky designer kitchens to Roy Orbison and a slowed down song by Beyoncé. Frightening, gratuitous, absurd, it was all these things and more.

People often confuse the artist with their art, a problem exacerbated by artists who encourage a reading of their work as autobiographical self-expression. Feel my pain. Love me, love my art. It is a wearying shtick. “You don’t like my show, I can tell,” Wolfson said to me last week. I protest, but what does liking have to do with anything? Is liking the point? What I don’t like, perhaps, is my own pleasure in all this frenzy. Real violence is no more real than a Tarantino movie, Pasolini’s Salò or a video game. Actual violence is everywhere and you don’t need a headset to experience it.

Downstairs at the same gallery Wolfson is showing two sculptures. A larger-than-life black mannequin lounges against a wall, feet splayed across the floor, his head held erect by a chain stretching from the ceiling. This is a monochrome, static version of a similar work, Colored sculpture, that Tate Modern will be showing next year. Eyes glowing, the puppet gets yanked around the gallery by its chains, an industrial marionette dragged across the floor, dancing in the air, swaying and falling to the noise of motorised hoists and gears.

Black sculpture is waiting, as it were, for its puppeteer. Next to it is a red shack, the elongated nose of a witch rising from the roof like a spire. The roof is a face, with a rictus grin. A sprawl of chains surrounds the shack, as if it too were a character in a puppet show. Virtual reality and CGI gimmicks, puppet shows and cartoon animations are the apparatus of fiction. What story does Wolfson tell?

Talking at the Royal Institution last week Wolfson discussed a video work in which he says: “My mother is dead. My father is dead. I’m gay. I’d like to be a poet. This is my house.” Wolfson’s parents, he told the audience, are alive. He is not gay and doesn’t want to be a poet. But aren’t the lines something like a poem? When he was growing up, he said, the family home was filled with his mother’s constant screaming. This is my house, she would scream. Wolfson’s mother is a psychoanalyst, and, he says, a kind woman. Perhaps the sculpture, the house of the wicked witch, is a memory of the violent sonic backdrop to his childhood.

Wolfson says his work is not autobiographical, and that one shouldn’t confuse the guy with the baseball bat, nor the brat in his latest video who speaks with Wolfson’s voice, with the artist himself. The artist is acting a role. Agatha Christie was not a multiple murderer and the author of Lolita was not a paedophile.

Watching him with the baseball bat, swinging and stomping, I was reminded of Bruce Nauman ’s remark that art is like getting hit in the face with a baseball bat. “Or better, like getting hit in the back of the neck. You never see it coming…” Nauman once said.

The witch makes a brief reappearance in a new video, Riverboat song, at the gallery’s Kingly Street space. The screen sits in the middle of a purple-carpeted floor. The protagonist, a cartoon Huck Finn in ragged trousers, dances in his mum’s high heels to Australian hip-hop artist Iggy Azalea’s 2013 song Work . Dancing in my mum’s heels, I’d just fall over – this boy has great slinky moves, but he is a cartoon. He grows pneumatic cartoon breasts and ass, but they fall off.

Pubescent gender confusion comes and goes, and pretty soon he, or Wolfson, gives us a chilling lesson in male narcissism and mental abuse – a story of gaslighting mind games and control. “I’d like you to understand that I’m not responsible for my rage but it is instead a response to your correctible defects,” he wheedles, chillingly. This gets under my skin much more than the business with the baseball bat.

The voice goes on, while the boy is replaced by CGI punk rats, a green crocodile lounging in the bath and a pair of sleek, animated horses taking breakfast. There’s a lot more in the seven and a half minutes of Riverboat song. The boy frolics in a puddle of his own virulent yellow piss; a gleeful human fountain, drinking and delighting in frenzied urolagnia. He grins and meets our gaze, craving our complicity. Bob Dylan’s Just Like a Woman soundtracks one scene – accentuating the boy’s misogyny as he seeks his reflection in a mirror and catches our eye.

Then, finally, we get the real real violence – a screenshot YouTube clip of a beefy white man beating a black youth. A few seconds later it is gone, replaced by other, more anodyne clips about robotics and how to slice an apple.

Wolfson regards his art as a largely intuitive response to the world about him. It is a visceral and physical play of images, language and objects. Riverboat song is rich and complex and weird. It may even have moral purpose. A repellent yellow-toothed CGI rat drags on his cigarette, the word “Careful” curdling in smoke in the aeroplane aisle. In his talk, Wolfson explained that “it is a sign to be careful about how much you want to surrender to your narcissism”. Isn’t liking or not liking also a kind of surrender? Beats me.

• Jordan Wolfson Riverboat song is at Sadie Coles , Davies Street and Kingly Street, London, until 17 June
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Jordan Wolfson, Riverboat Song, 2017 Video still, 7:28 min © Jordan Wolfson. Courtesy the artist, David Zwirner and Sadie Coles HQ, London

Jordan Wolfson

Riverboat song, 1.2 2019 – 1.9 2019.

Wolfson’s latest video “Riverboat Song” (2017–18), was recently added to the Museum’s collection. This video sculpture mixes computer-animated scenes with found clips from the less savoury sides of the internet, loops of pop music and a monologue by the artist himself. The boyish Huckleberry Finn-like protagonist recurs in Wolfson’s works, possibly as an alter ego or a symbol of the American Dream – searching for happiness, adventurous, free. The characters in his often technically advanced sculptures and animations are both fascinating and challenging, often leaving us with a sense of unease.

Video: Jordan Wolfson on Riverboat song and his creative process

Entertaining and provoking

What might seem like an entertaining flow of randomly arranged imagery in “Riverboat Song” – computer animations, music, garnered partly from popular and internet culture – are, in fact, meticulously composed scenes that put us off balance. Wolfson’s manipulation of the apparently familiar puts trust between sender and receiver to the test.

The artist himself describes that his compass when creating a new work is the search for a specific, real feeling. The road to that experience can be humour, dramaturgical short circuits and a degree of shock.

Wolfson belongs to the “post-internet” movement

Wolfson is one of the most exciting young artists on the American art scene right now, whose norm-breaking works occasionally cause outrage, for instance, at the Whitney Biennial in 2017, where he provoked debate when he presented “Real Violence”, a VR work where viewers witness a re-enacted violent assault. He is considered to belong to a movement in art that is sometimes called “post-internet”, which comments on and is inspired by a digital information and consumer society.

Jordan Wolfson finds his reference points in various fields, including the Hollywood movie industry, with its special effects illusions and capacity to manipulate. Production is time-consuming, expensive, and relatively small, and can be seen as a series of works that are “released” one by one, like films or novels.

Stunt robots used in Wolfson’s works

Wolfson is known, among other things, for his use of animatronics – a form of jointed robots that can be used for stunt tricks, which Wolfson has programmed with face recognition technology so they can interact with the audience. As in “(Female Figure)” (2014), a monstrous dancer fastened to a mirror, who is both seductive and terrifying. Or, as in “Colored Sculpture” (2016), where a puppet suspended by chains from a gantry system is subjected to a series of mechanical assaults, only to challenge us by uncannily seeking eye contact.

Based in Los Angeles

Jordan Wolfson was born in New York in 1980 and now lives in Los Angeles. His works have been shown at Tate Modern, London, S.M.A.K., Ghent, The Broad, Los Angeles, and the Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam. He has a BFA in Sculpture from the Rhode Island School of Design in New York. He also studied for one year at the Konstfack University College of Arts, Crafts and Design in Stockholm.

Curator: Lena Essling

Curator tour (in Swedish)

Welcome to preview and artist talk.

Friday 1 February at 18–20. In the Cinema and Moderna Bar. In English. Free admission.

At 18.30: Jordan Wolfson in conversation with Lena Essling, curator .  The exhibition is open 18–20. Moderna  Bar is open.

Tuesday 19 February at 17.30, with Curator Lena Essling.

The exhibition is on the 4th floor

Jordan Wolfson, Riverboat Song, 2017–18 was acquired and donated by The American Friends of the Moderna Museet .

With support from Panasonic and Informationsteknik.

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Are you comfortable, now jordan wolfson at david zwirner.

Jordan Wolfson: Riverboat song at David Zwirner

May 2 to June 30, 2018 533 West 19th Street, New York, between 10th and 11th avenues New York CIty, www.davidzwirner.com

Very loud music greets visitors to David Zwirner’s 19th Street space. The white cube gallery has been transformed with soft, lilac carpeting and acoustic panels. These serve to dampen a multitude of sounds that fluctuate during Jordan Wolfson’s 8’24” video, Riverboat song (2017-2018). There’s also a sense of comfort in these gentle colors and textures – elegant  features that contrast with the disconcerting informality of what comes next: the exposed wires and weights on the back of sixteen screens aligned in a massive four-by-four grid. The doorway to the gallery frames this rear view, shielding the projection. This installation establishes power dynamics that soon become evident in the video itself: the space comforts, but the arrangement controls, forcing visitors up against the back wall (the furthest distance possible from the exit), caught between the screen and two large speakers. You feel small, particularly if, as this viewer chose to, you sit down, sandwiched between these mammoth screens and the wall.

The content of Riverboat song intensifies this juxtaposition of comfort and control. The piece is a montage, for the most part featuring a cast of animated characters. There are two “gay” dressed and acting horses, a naked crocodile, three grunge-styled rats, a Huckleberry Finn meets Alfred E. Neuman boy, and a witch. The boy is familiar from Wolfson’s earlier work,   Colored sculpture (2016). Riverboat song opens with a “down the rabbit hole” moment in which  the boy sinks into a giant teacup. This is followed by a series of vignettes: Finn being chopped up by the witch, Finn dancing seductively in Louboutins to Iggy Azalea’s “Work” (2014), the crocodile dancing, the rodents smoking on an airplane, all of the characters sharing pieces of a monologue narrated by Wolfson, Finn jumping in front of a mirror, more smoking rodents, and finally Finn splashing around in his own golden shower. The video closes with an amalgam of YouTube clips of robots, sensually dancing women, violent video games, and one man mercilessly beating another (this last was the inspiration for Wolfson’s notorious 2017 Whitney Biennial VR piece, Real violence ).

Riverboat song is permeated by sexual aggression. Pinned up against the wall, I was both surprised and transfixed – perhaps most by the monologue section of the video, which lasted for about a quarter of the piece. This was the “scene” that most forcefully situated the piece within Wolfson’s recent body of work. The monologue – spread between Wolfson’s animated cast, though predominantly spoken by a pantsless Finn – is about a relationship in which one partner manipulates the other for personal gain. The male voice (Wolfson’s) talks about “you” doing things for him: cleaning, cooking, sexual favors, and staying with him despite his emotional manipulation because of a twisted sense of obligation that leaves “you” completely under his control. While the “you” in the monologue is never specified as female, and could just as easily be male, I read it as very heteronormative  – possibly as a woman myself, possibly due to the current Me Too movement bringing attention to female harassment and assault. The casual aggression in the tone of the monologue, both in Wolfson’s inflection and the blasé positions of various characters (penis in hand, in the bathtub, over brunch), matched the riveting and gut-wrenching spectatorship of Real violence , and the emotional instability of Colored sculpture (tellingly set to “When a Man Loves a Woman”). At first, the off-hand and personal tone of this monologue creates the illusion of lovingness, although this soon melts into distinctive domination, much like the discomfort that emerges out of the initial safe feeling of the installation. Finn takes a distinct pleasure in himself throughout the video – clearly aroused by his talk of supremacy in the monologue, and later luxuriating in his own urine. He splashes around so much it becomes comical as well as uncomfortably voyeuristic, due the length of the clip. However, even in this moment I am so transfixed as to be unable to simply stand up and walk out, leaving the final, over-the-top clip unviewed. Perhaps this is due to innate human curiosity and the need to know what happens next, or maybe something about the anthropomorphism of the characters results in an uncanny feeling of being watched, and thus somehow known or possessed. For whatever reason, I am strangely comfortable on this carpet, back against the wall, and watch Riverboat song again and again.

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Jordan Wolfson: Riverboat Song

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Jordan Wolfson raises a baseball bat over his head and smashes it down into another man’s face. He stamps on his head, over and over, squelchy belches singing out with every impact. Then back to the baseball bat – bang, bang, bang – the body’s convulsing, its face a mush. In the background, a cantor sings a Jewish prayer. Then you take the virtual reality goggles off and you’re back in the real world, you feel shaky and disoriented, palms sweaty, arms heavy. ‘Real Violence’ by this young American artist is stomach-turning, shocking and horrifying, but it’s also one of the most important works of art you will see this year.

This two-space show is made up of a massive video installation at Kingly Street and two sculptures and the VR work at Davies Street. The sculptures are a wood cabin with a contorted witch’s face for a roof and a massive articulated doll of a boy, all in black, lying prostrate in chains, its face an evil grimace. They’re childhood fairytales with the sugar taken out, leaving behind pure horror.

Wolfson has covered the bigger gallery with purple carpet and a collection of flat screen TVs showing ‘Riverboat Song’, a short animated movie centred on an adorable little animated boy, cherubic and mischievous. It lacks the aggression of ‘Real Violence’ but more than makes up for it in nasty intent.

We all grew up watching the Roadrunner condemning Wile E Coyote to a million humiliating deaths, and Jerry torturing Tom in countless unimaginable ways – cartoons are acceptable violence, they’re safe spaces for dangerous acts. So Wolfson uses them to enact deep-held, unspeakable desires. The little hobo kid in ‘Riverboat Song’ starts off dancing to Iggy Azalea, his movements exaggerated and sexy, then suddenly he grows an enormous pair of boobs which flop out and drop off. Then, with the help of some talking horses and a bathing crocodile, he calmly explains to you how he’s going to manipulate you into a long, abusive relationship that will leave you old, unhappy and unloveable. Then he whips out his tallywhacker and wees into his hand, staring the viewer right in the face while slurping up his own human Lucozade. He pisses in an arc through the air into his mouth, then stamps in his wee and plays in the puddle. It’s all interspersed with YouTube videos of fistfights and intelligent robots.

Wolfson makes you feel like we’re all moments away from staggering violence and moral decrepitude. It’s within us, aching and begging to burst out. Morality is a veil that can drop at any second. We’re constantly surrounded by physical and emotional cruelty – we’re witnesses and accessories to it – either in the culture we consume or the relationships we’re involved in. And what’s amazing is that all that horror and violence is so… easy. It’s so banal, so normal, so natural. Wolfson is opening a little window into the contemporary soul and letting the sewage seep out. His work is obvious and simple, but complex and obscure. Yes, it’s all very contemporary art, and there’s not much here for your gran. But he’s saying something about how we live right now. And the worst thing is, you’ll feel yourself reflected in all of it, and you won’t like what you see.

@eddyfrankel

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David Zwirner is pleased to present the United States premiere of Jordan Wolfson’s most recent video work, Riverboat song (2017-2018). By turns surreal, deadpan, and mischievous, Riverboat song combines computer-animated vignettes and found video clips with pop soundtracks and a monologue voiced by the artist. Since its debut at Sadie Coles HQ, London, last year, the work has been revisited and expanded by Wolfson, who has added new scenes that will be shown here for the first time. On view at the gallery’s 533 West 19th Street location, this will be the artist’s third solo exhibition with David Zwirner.

Over the past decade, Wolfson has become known for his thought-provoking works in a wide range of media, including video, sculpture, installation, photography, and performance. Pulling intuitively from the world of advertising, the Internet, and the technology industry, he produces ambitious and enigmatic narratives that frequently feature a series of invented and appropriated animated characters.

Riverboat song, 2017–2018 (still) Jordan Wolfson Sixteen (16) monitor video wall, 7:23 min, color, sound Dimensions vary with installation Edition of 5, 2 AP © Jordan Wolfson Courtesy the artist, David Zwirner, New York/Hong Kong, and Sadie Coles HQ, London

Presented across a sixteen-monitor video wall, Riverboat song revolves around one of the artist’s recurring figures, a Huckleberry Finn/Alfred E. Neuman hybrid that appeared in animatronic form in his 2016 work Colored sculpture. Opening with a seductive dance number and later delivering a cajoling and coercive address to an absent lover, this figure is but one of a disparate array of animated avatars, including a group of smoking rats, a pair of horses, and a bathing crocodile, that Wolfson employs throughout the video. The closing section of the work shows Wolfson surfing through YouTube, with clips ranging from instructional videos to a vicious brawl that served as the impetus for the artist’s 2017 virtual reality work Real violence, which was featured in the Whitney Biennial that year. In Riverboat song, as in much of his work, the artist creates an idiosyncratic juxtaposition of banality and barbarity that speaks directly to the algorithmic logic of contemporary digital culture.

Jordan Wolfson was born in 1980 in New York. In 2003, he received his BFA in sculpture from the Rhode Island School of Design. In 2013, the artist joined David Zwirner and the gallery has presented solo exhibitions of his work in New York in 2014 and 2016.

At this year’s edition of Frieze New York (May 3–6, 2018), David Zwirner will feature several new wall-mounted sculptural works by the artist in a two-person presentation alongside work by Josh Smith. Also this spring, the inaugural London presentation of Wolfson’s Colored sculpture (2016) will take place in the Tanks at Tate Modern.

Produced by Sadie Coles HQ, London, Riverboat song debuted there in 2017. The work has since been on view in solo exhibitions at Pond Society, New Century Art Foundation, Shanghai (2017) and the Schinkel Pavillon in Berlin (2018).

In 2016, the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam hosted a two-part solo exhibition, MANIC/LOVE/TRUTH/LOVE, a survey of Wolfson’s work that featured the animatronic sculptures Colored sculpture and (Female figure) (2014) alongside a selection of video works and objects. In 2015, the Cleveland Museum of Art held a solo show featuring two early videos by Wolfson. In 2014, a selection of his video work was shown at the McLellan Galleries in Glasgow as part of the 6th Glasgow International. Also in 2014, the artist participated in 14 Rooms, which was curated by Klaus Biesenbach and Hans Ulrich Obrist and presented during Art Basel. The exhibition was a collaboration between Fondation Beyeler, Art Basel, and Theater Basel.

Organized by the Stedelijk Museum voor Actuele Kunst (SMAK) in Ghent in 2013, Jordan Wolfson: Ecce Homo/le Poseur featured a survey of his recent video work. Also in 2013 his first solo exhibition in the United Kingdom was presented at the Chisenhale Gallery in London. Other institutions which have previously hosted solo shows include Kunsthalle Wien, Vienna (2012); REDCAT, Los Angeles (2012); Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen, Düsseldorf (2011); CCA Wattis Institute for Contemporary Arts, San Francisco (2009); Swiss Institute of Contemporary Art, New York (2008); Galleria d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea di Bergamo, Italy (2007); and Kunsthalle Zürich (2004).

In 2009, he received the prestigious Cartier Award from the Frieze Foundation, which helps an artist from outside the United Kingdom realize a major project at Frieze Art Fair in London.

Work by Wolfson is held in public collections worldwide, including The Broad, Los Angeles; Cleveland Museum of Art; Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo, Turin; Fonds national d’art contemporain (FNAC), Paris; Galleria d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea di Bergamo, Italy; LUMA Foundation, Zurich; Moderna Museet, Stockholm; Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago; Museum Ludwig, Cologne; The Museum of Modern Art, New York; Stedelijk Museum voor Actuele Kunst (SMAK), Ghent; and the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York. He lives and works in New York and Los Angeles.

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Jordan Wolfson: Riverboat song / David Zwirner NY

02 MAY (MAY 2) 0:00 23 JUN (JUN 23) 0:00 Jordan Wolfson: Riverboat song / David Zwirner NY David Zwirner NEW YORK , 533 West 19th Street New York

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David Zwirner presents the United States premiere of Jordan Wolfson’s most recent video work, Riverboat song (2017). Presented across a sixteen-monitor video wall, Riverboat song revolves around

David Zwirner presents the United States premiere of Jordan Wolfson’s most recent video work, Riverboat song (2017).

Presented across a sixteen-monitor video wall, Riverboat song revolves around one of the artist’s recurring figures, a Huckleberry Finn/Alfred E. Neuman hybrid that appeared in animatronic form in his 2016 work Colored sculpture . Opening with a seductive dance number and later delivering a cajoling and coercive address to an absent lover, this figure is but one of a disparate array of animated avatars, including a group of smoking rats, a pair of horses, and a bathing crocodile, that Wolfson employs throughout the video. The closing section of the work shows Wolfson surfing through YouTube, with clips ranging from instructional videos to a vicious brawl that served as the impetus for the artist’s 2017 virtual reality work Real violence , which was featured in the Whitney Biennial that year. In Riverboat song , as in much of his work, the artist creates an idiosyncratic juxtaposition of banality and barbarity that speaks directly to the algorithmic logic of contemporary digital culture.

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MAY 2 (WEDNESDAY) 0:00 - JUNE 23 (SATURDAY) 0:00

David Zwirner NEW YORK

533 West 19th Street New York

62 Kingly Street, W1B 5QN, London, United Kingdom Open: Tue-Sat 11am-6pm

Jordan Wolfson: Riverboat song

Sadie Coles HQ Kingly Street, London

@ Sadie Coles HQ Kingly Street

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Thu 27 Apr 2017 to Sat 17 Jun 2017

62 Kingly Street, W1B 5QN Jordan Wolfson: Riverboat song

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Artist: Jordan Wolfson

In his first exhibition at Sadie Coles HQ, Jordan Wolfson presents a new video, Riverboat song – installed in the Kingly Street gallery – and a group of new works in a parallel display at Davies Street.

Over the past decade, Wolfson’s practice has traversed video, film, installation, performance, print and photography. Employing animation, digital imaging and animatronic sculpture, his recent work has centred on ideas of literal and virtual reality, especially the projection of inner impulses (desire, optimism, violence or guilt) into constructed selves or scenarios. Riverboat song is a narcissistic surreal nightmare, drawn from the banalities and horrors of contemporary life and its online extension. Combining animation and found clips, pop soundtracks and voiceover, the video revolves around a Huckleberry Finn-style character (seemingly lifted from a Disney classic) who has recurred and morphed in Wolfson’s work. In one sequence, the boy delivers a monologue voiced by the artist. Addressed to an absent lover, it is a chain of deadpan statements – confessional, coercive, retributive. The words are funnelled through other cartoon cut-outs including a crocodile in the bath and a pair of dining horses. In his first exhibition at Sadie Coles HQ, Jordan Wolfson presents a new video, Riverboat song – installed in the Kingly Street gallery – and a group of new works in a parallel display at Davies Street. Over the past decade, Wolfson’s practice has traversed video, film, installation, performance, print and photography. Employing animation, digital imaging and animatronic sculpture, his recent work has centred on ideas of literal and virtual reality, especially the projection of inner impulses (desire, optimism, violence or guilt) into constructed selves or scenarios. Riverboat song is a narcissistic surreal nightmare, drawn from the banalities and horrors of contemporary life and its online extension. Combining animation and found clips, pop soundtracks and voiceover, the video revolves around a Huckleberry Finn-style character (seemingly lifted from a Disney classic) who has recurred and morphed in Wolfson’s work. In one sequence, the boy delivers a monologue voiced by the artist. Addressed to an absent lover, it is a chain of deadpan statements – confessional, coercive, retributive. The words are funnelled through other cartoon cut-outs including a crocodile in the bath and a pair of dining horses. Wolfson adapts the formulaic stuff of the internet – avatars, memes, clips and mash-ups – and coerces these into a dark psychodrama. Through a splicing of images and a disconnect between image and script, Riverboat song erases the line between the perverse and the gleeful. The fictive world of animation, which grows more lurid as the video progresses, is contrasted by the found reality of YouTube footage. The movement from animation to YouTube signals a shift from introspection to an outward view – a subjective shift from the images and fantasies of the inward imagination to the outward search for place and identity through the surfing of the web. The act of surfing itself becomes a mirror-portrait of the horrors, injustice and perversions of contemporary life. Wolfson is at once an autobiographer (as participant and witness in the worlds he tracks) and creator of fiction (as the maker of his art). One clip in Riverboat song shows a pair of brawling men, one viciously raining punches on the other. This clip was the stimulus behind Wolfson’s virtual reality work Real violence (2017), on view at Davies Street, in which the manic brutality of a witness’s iPhone video of real-life violence is translated into a heightened, disorienting, and contextless experience. ( Real violence is also included in 2017 Whitney Biennial). The Huck Finn character is reincarnated in Black sculpture (2017) – a puppet cast from rubber segments, which follows Wolfson’s sculptures (Female figure) (2014) and Colored sculpture (2016). In contrast to those works’ painted finish and dynamic movements, the articulated figure sits motionless and monochrome, suspended between abstraction and figuration. Its eyes are hollow, awaiting animation and character. Its diabolical grin and awkward anatomy nod to the genre of evil dolls and toys, while its disconnected limbs – threaded by metal chains – carry a deeper subtext of latent violence. The mood pervading Wolfson’s recent work, of a classic American fairytale betrayed, is crystallised in House with face (2017). This is a giant representation of a witch’s face, modelled from faux timber. A pop-cultural image – and ancient cliché of malignant woman – is recast, as if by magic, into the animated roof of a rustic log cabin. Wolfson has spoken of cartoons as constituting “a dream world where anything is possible, but everything is subject to distortion and mutation.” Throughout his latest work, he exploits the distortions of cartoon to render the reality of human acts and behaviours without moralizing or polemic. The power of Wolfson’s work owes equally to the visceral impact of its complex, animated representations – which slide seamlessly from banal to violent, and from vividly imaginary to scarily real – and to its disturbing refusal to judge. Jordan Wolfson was born in 1980 in New York. In 2003, he received his B.F.A. in sculpture from the Rhode Island School of Design. His work Real violence (2017) is currently on view at the 2017 Whitney Biennial, New York. Solo exhibitions include TRUTH / LOVE and MANIC / LOVE , Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam (2016 and 2017); Jordan Wolfson: Colored sculpture, LUMA Foundation, Arles, France (2016); Jordan Wolfson: Two Early Works, Cleveland Museum of Art in Ohio (2015); Jordan Wolfson: Ecce Homo/le Poseur, organised by the Stedelijk Museum voor Actuele Kunst (S.M.A.K.) in Ghent (2013); and Raspberry Poser, Chisenhale Gallery, London (2013). Group exhibitions include World As Cartoon, Tate Britain, London (2017); Manifesta 10, State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg (2014); 6th Glasgow International (2014); and 14 Rooms, curated by Klaus Biesenbach and Hans Ulrich Obrist, Art Basel (2014). In 2009 he received the Cartier Award from the Frieze Foundation.

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First Look: Jordan Wolfson

Jordan Wolfson, Riverboat Song , 2017 (still). Video; 7:27 min. Courtesy the artist

The New Museum and Rhizome present First Look: Jordan Wolfson, a screening of video works by artist Jordan Wolfson followed by a conversation between Wolfson and Aria Dean, Assistant Curator of Net Art and Digital Culture at Rhizome.

Wolfson is well-known for his videos and installations, which often mine pop culture and the everyday to explore technology, gender, sexuality, and violence with a darkly humorous approach. Most recently, he exhibited Real violence (2017), a short virtual reality experience, in this year’s Whitney Biennial. First Look: Jordan Wolfson will screen three of the artist’s works, including Riverboat Song (2017), currently on view at Sadie Coles HQ, London. Following the screening, Dean and Wolfson will discuss the artist’s relationship to technology, masculinity, and the spectacularization and banalization of violence in his work and in contemporary culture.

Jordan Wolfson (b. 1980) received his BFA in sculpture from the Rhode Island School of Design. Solo exhibitions include “ TRUTH / LOVE” and “ MANIC / LOVE ,” Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam (2016 and 2017); “Colored sculpture,” LUMA Foundation, Arles, France (2016); “Two Early Works,” Cleveland Museum of Art (2015); “Ecce Homo/le Poseur,” Stedelijk Museum voor Actuele Kunst, Ghent (2013); and “Raspberry Poser,” Chisenhale Gallery, London (2013). Group exhibitions include “World As Cartoon,” Tate Britain, London (2017); Manifesta 10, State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg (2014); the 6th Glasgow International (2014); and “14 Rooms,” curated by Klaus Biesenbach and Hans Ulrich Obrist, Art Basel (2014). In 2009, he received the Cartier Award from the Frieze Foundation.

Content Warning: The videos included in this screening contain mature content and may not be suitable for all viewers.

Major support for First Look is provided by the Neeson/Edlis Artist Commissions Fund.

Further support is provided by the Toby Devan Lewis Emerging Artists Exhibitions Fund.

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Independent Art Voice

Jordan Wolfson: Riverboat Song

Jordan Wolfson’s new video, Riverboat song is installed in Sadie Cole’s Kingly Street gallery – and a group of new works in a parallel display at Davies Street. Over the past decade, Wolfson’s practice has traversed video, film, installation, performance, print and photography. Employing animation, digital imaging and animatronic sculpture, his recent work has centred on ideas of literal and virtual reality, especially the projection of inner impulses (desire, optimism, violence or guilt) into constructed selves or scenarios.

Riverboat song is a narcissistic surreal nightmare, drawn from the banalities and horrors of contemporary life and its online extension. Combining animation and found clips, pop soundtracks and voiceover, the video revolves around a Huckleberry Finn-style character (seemingly lifted from a Disney classic) who has recurred and morphed in Wolfson’s work. In one sequence, the boy delivers a monologue voiced by the artist. Addressed to an absent lover, it is a chain of deadpan statements – confessional, coercive, retributive. The words are funnelled through other cartoon cut-outs including a crocodile in the bath and a pair of dining horses.

Also on show at 1 Davies St London W1

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Jordan Wolfson

2 may — 30 jun 2018 at the david zwirner gallery in new york, united states.

David Zwirner is pleased to present the United States premiere of Jordan Wolfson’s most recent video work, Riverboat song (2017-2018). By turns surreal, deadpan, and mischievous, Riverboat song combines computer-animated vignettes and found video clips with pop soundtracks and a monologue voiced by the artist. Since its debut at Sadie Coles HQ, London, last year, the work has been revisited and expanded by Wolfson, who has added new scenes that will be shown here for the first time.

Over the past decade, Wolfson has become known for his thought-provoking works in a wide range of media, including video, sculpture, installation, photography, and performance. Pulling intuitively from the world of advertising, the Internet, and the technology industry, he produces ambitious and enigmatic narratives that frequently feature a series of invented and appropriated animated characters.

Presented across a sixteen-monitor video wall, Riverboat song revolves around one of the artist’s recurring figures, a Huckleberry Finn/Alfred E. Neuman hybrid that appeared in animatronic form in his 2016 work Colored sculpture. Opening with a seductive dance number and later delivering a cajoling and coercive address to an absent lover, this figure is but one of a disparate array of animated avatars, including a group of smoking rats, a pair of horses, and a bathing crocodile, that Wolfson employs throughout the video. The closing section of the work shows Wolfson surfing through YouTube, with clips ranging from instructional videos to a vicious brawl that served as the impetus for the artist’s 2017 virtual reality work Real violence, which was featured in the Whitney Biennial that year. In Riverboat song, as in much of his work, the artist creates an idiosyncratic juxtaposition of banality and barbarity that speaks directly to the algorithmic logic of contemporary digital culture.

Jordan Wolfson was born in 1980 in New York. In 2003, he received his BFA in sculpture from the Rhode Island School of Design. In 2013, the artist joined David Zwirner and the gallery has presented solo exhibitions of his work in New York in 2014 and 2016.

At this year’s edition of Frieze New York (May 3–6, 2018), David Zwirner will feature several new wall-mounted sculptural works by the artist in a two-person presentation alongside work by Josh Smith. Also this spring, the inaugural London presentation of Wolfson’s Colored sculpture (2016) will take place in the Tanks at Tate Modern.

Produced by Sadie Coles HQ, London, Riverboat song debuted there in 2017. The work has since been on view in solo exhibitions at Pond Society, New Century Art Foundation, Shanghai (2017) and the Schinkel Pavillon in Berlin (2018).

In 2016, the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam hosted a two-part solo exhibition, Manic/Love/Truth/Love, a survey of Wolfson’s work that featured the animatronic sculptures Colored sculpture and (Female figure) (2014) alongside a selection of video works and objects. In 2015, the Cleveland Museum of Art held a solo show featuring two early videos by Wolfson. In 2014, a selection of his video work was shown at the McLellan Galleries in Glasgow as part of the 6th Glasgow International. Also in 2014, the artist participated in 14 Rooms, which was curated by Klaus Biesenbach and Hans Ulrich Obrist and presented during Art Basel. The exhibition was a collaboration between Fondation Beyeler, Art Basel, and Theater Basel.

Organized by the Stedelijk Museum voor Actuele Kunst (SMAK) in Ghent in 2013, Jordan Wolfson: Ecce Homo/le Poseur featured a survey of his recent video work. Also in 2013 his first solo exhibition in the United Kingdom was presented at the Chisenhale Gallery in London. Other institutions which have previously hosted solo shows include Kunsthalle Wien, Vienna (2012); REDCAT, Los Angeles (2012); Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen, Düsseldorf (2011); CCA Wattis Institute for Contemporary Arts, San Francisco (2009); Swiss Institute of Contemporary Art, New York (2008); Galleria d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea di Bergamo, Italy (2007); and Kunsthalle Zürich (2004).

In 2009, he received the prestigious Cartier Award from the Frieze Foundation, which helps an artist from outside the United Kingdom realize a major project at Frieze Art Fair in London.

Work by Wolfson is held in public collections worldwide, including The Broad, Los Angeles; Cleveland Museum of Art; Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo, Turin; Fonds national d’art contemporain (FNAC), Paris; Galleria d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea di Bergamo, Italy; LUMA Foundation, Zurich; Moderna Museet, Stockholm; Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago; Museum Ludwig, Cologne; The Museum of Modern Art, New York; Stedelijk Museum voor Actuele Kunst (SMAK), Ghent; and the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York. He lives and works in New York and Los Angeles.

• Jordan Wolfson. Courtesy of David Zwirner

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Jordan Wolfson, Riverboat song

27 apr 2017 – 17 jun 2017, regular hours.

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Sadie Coles HQ | Kingly Street

London, United Kingdom

• 62 Kingly Street
• United Kingdom

Travel Information

• Oxford Circus, Piccadilly Circus

In his first exhibition at Sadie Coles HQ, Jordan Wolfson presents a new video, Riverboat song – installed in the Kingly Street gallery – and a group of new works in a parallel display at Davies Street. Over the past decade, Wolfson’s practice has traversed video, film, installation, performance, print and photography. Employing animation, digital imaging and animatronic sculpture, his recent work has centred on ideas of literal and virtual reality, especially the projection of inner impulses (desire, optimism, violence or guilt) into constructed selves or scenarios.

Riverboat song is a narcissistic surreal nightmare, drawn from the banalities and horrors of contemporary life and its online extension. Combining animation and found clips, pop soundtracks and voiceover, the video revolves around a Huckleberry Finn-style character (seemingly lifted from a Disney classic) who has recurred and morphed in Wolfson’s work. In one sequence, the boy delivers a monologue voiced by the artist. Addressed to an absent lover, it is a chain of deadpan statements – confessional, coercive, retributive. The words are funnelled through other cartoon cut-outs including a crocodile in the bath and a pair of dining horses.

Wolfson adapts the formulaic stuff of the internet – avatars, memes, clips and mash-ups – and coerces these into a dark psychodrama. Through a splicing of images and a disconnect between image and script, Riverboat song erases the line between the perverse and the gleeful. The fictive world of animation, which grows more lurid as the video progresses, is contrasted by the found reality of YouTube footage. The movement from animation to YouTube signals a shift from introspection to an outward view – a subjective shift from the images and fantasies of the inward imagination to the outward search for place and identity through the surfing of the web. The act of surfing itself becomes a mirror-portrait of the horrors, injustice and perversions of contemporary life. Wolfson is at once an autobiographer (as participant and witness in the worlds he tracks) and creator of fiction (as the maker of his art).

One clip in Riverboat song shows a pair of brawling men, one viciously raining punches on the other. This clip was the stimulus behind Wolfson’s virtual reality work Real violence (2017), on view at Davies Street, in which the manic brutality of a witness’s iPhone video of real-life violence is translated into a heightened, disorienting, and contextless experience. ( Real violence is also included in 2017 Whitney Biennial). The Huck Finn character is reincarnated in Black sculpture (2017) – a puppet cast from rubber segments, which follows Wolfson’s sculptures (Female figure) (2014) and Colored sculpture (2016). In contrast to those works’ painted finish and dynamic movements, the articulated figure sits motionless and monochrome, suspended between abstraction and figuration. Its eyes are hollow, awaiting animation and character. Its diabolical grin and awkward anatomy nod to the genre of evil dolls and toys, while its disconnected limbs – threaded by metal chains – carry a deeper subtext of latent violence.

The mood pervading Wolfson’s recent work, of a classic American fairytale betrayed, is crystallised in House with face (2017). This is a giant representation of a witch’s face, modelled from faux timber. A pop-cultural image – and ancient cliché of malignant woman – is recast, as if by magic, into the animated roof of a rustic log cabin. Wolfson has spoken of cartoons as constituting “a dream world where anything is possible, but everything is subject to distortion and mutation.” Throughout his latest work, he exploits the distortions of cartoon to render the reality of human acts and behaviours without moralizing or polemic. The power of Wolfson’s work owes equally to the visceral impact of its complex, animated representations – which slide seamlessly from banal to violent, and from vividly imaginary to scarily real – and to its disturbing refusal to judge.

Jordan Wolfson was born in 1980 in New York. In 2003, he received his B.F.A. in sculpture from the Rhode Island School of Design. His work Real violence (2017) is currently on view at the 2017 Whitney Biennial, New York. Solo exhibitions include TRUTH / LOVE and MANIC / LOVE , Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam (2016 and 2017); Jordan Wolfson: Colored sculpture , LUMA Foundation, Arles, France (2016); Jordan Wolfson: Two Early Works , Cleveland Museum of Art in Ohio (2015); Jordan Wolfson: Ecce Homo/le Poseur , organised by the Stedelijk Museum voor Actuele Kunst (S.M.A.K.) in Ghent (2013); and Raspberry Poser , Chisenhale Gallery, London (2013). Group exhibitions include World As Cartoon , Tate Britain, London (2017); Manifesta 10 , State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg (2014); 6th Glasgow International (2014); and 14 Rooms , curated by Klaus Biesenbach and Hans Ulrich Obrist, Art Basel (2014). In 2009 he received the Cartier Award from the Frieze Foundation.

For further information please contact the gallery at +44 (0)20 7493 8611 or [email protected]

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