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PRINT September 1999

Daniel Birnbaum

RUMOR HAD IT THAT AT LEAST ONE PERSON WOULD GET KILLED by the mechanical penis on horseback that Jason Rhoades and Paul McCarthy installed in the Artiglierie. What kind of a beast was this shiny red organ rotating on a black horse-machine surrounded by huge doughnuts and lots of junk? According to the catalogue it’s simply the Trojan Horse, and its P-P (plastic penis) is fucking the media—which is Jason and Paul’s way of sneaking into the LA film industry. Got it? Whatever one may think of Rhoades’s messy cosmologies, he remains the quintessential artist of this show. Hungry, aggressive, and enormously generous, this LA prodigy cares only for “collaboration,” but he swallowed his colleagues whole.

That sort of thing, it would appear, is precisely what Biennale director Harald Szeemann likes: visually powerful and self-confident works, the bigger the better. In fact, I’ve never seen so many

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