Every two years, the Whitney blows its mind — and ours — with its Biennial, a chance to “expand our ideas of what art can be,” as museum director Adam Weinberg grandly puts it. This year’s edition opened Friday, and it’s more far-flung than ever, with works by 103 artists who have seemingly left no medium unturned — even the speakers in the stairwells have been draped with plush stuffed animals (some of which seem to have seen cleaner times) and are issuing very strange noises.
Here’s a look at some of the more mind-boggling works at the Whitney Biennial 2014, its 77th, which runs through May 25 at the museum (945 Madison Ave. at 75th Street). Many of the titles are ours, as are the interpretations — but feel free to make up your own.
Angst in Wonderland
Anatomically correct (and well-endowed) blond mannequins; fun-house furniture and videos of bombings, suicide, gay sex and banana-eating gorillas and, well, that’s just part of Bjarne Melgaard’s installation. We haven’t seen this much dystopian dysfunction crammed into a single space since Paul McCarthy’s dirty little dwarves sexed up Park Avenue Armory’s Drill Hall. Melgaard’s living room-size maelstrom looks like the end of the world as we know it — and those smiley-face pillows, with their lewdly long tongues, don’t make it any easier to swallow.
A Real Page Turner
It takes two women — in sweaters embroidered, respectively, “Bigger” and “Better” — to turn the ginormous pages of artist Lisa Anne Auerbach’s “Megazine.” Each page is 5 feet long, the tallest any printer could handle, and features commentary and photos about psychic parlors all around the United States. Quirky and kinda cool. Just get there on Friday nights between 6 and 9, when the page turners are on duty.
‘We Are All Pussy Riot, We Are All Pussy Galore’
No, we didn’t make up this fabulously timely title — Lisa Anne Auerbach did it for us. Stationed beside the artist’s “Megazine” is a determined-looking trio of mannequins, kitted out in sweaters, hats and mufflers knitted by Auerbach herself. You’ve come a long way, baby, since James Bond made you a sex object — keep marching on, even if those high heels are killing you.
Horn of Plenty
Alma Allen’s untitled marble sculpture is sitting pretty, perched on its own oak pedestal, where it suggests an upright cornucopia. Or not. A periscope, perhaps, or something more . . . provocative?
‘Blehh’
That’s what Carol Jackson has titled this tall bit of sculpture, which leans against the wall and seems to be vomiting a stream of acrylic. Come to think of it, “Blehh” pretty much says it all.
Mixed Messages
Ken Okiishi took a bunch of flat-screen TVs and painted on them. Then he placed them on their sides, vertically, and ran news clips on them. Look hard and you’ll catch glimpses of John Kerry announcing . . . something. Yes, the news can be pretty distorted sometimes, especially when it has paint all over it.