New York

Robert Morris, BRAINDEAD / SHITMOUTH / PRESIDENT, 2017, fiberglass and epoxy resin, 36 × 71 × 4".

Robert Morris

Castelli Gallery | Uptown

In her autobiography Feelings Are Facts (2006), Yvonne Rainer recalls visiting Robert Morris’s installation Passageway, 1961, at Yoko Ono’s Chambers Street loft in New York. “I traipsed downtown and up the five flights expecting some kind of performance, only to be met, on opening the door, by a three-foot wide curving corridor with [a] seven-foot high ceiling that ended in a pointed cul-de-sac,” writes Rainer. “I was so outraged that I wrote on the wall ‘Fuck you too, Bob Morris.’” Notice the “too.” For those familiar with the indignities of Rainer’s subsequent relationship with Morris, this episode reads as a foreshadowing, but it should also be understood as a prescient act of art criticism. Through six decades, there’s always been an element of “fuck you” to Morris’s work, a kind of rude affront you try to shrug off as misdirected hostility, but that leaves you shaken and self-questioning

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