Earlier this spring, as we stepped off the elevator on the top floor of the Whitney Biennial, my company at the museum made the rather amusing but to my mind also very accurate observation that it all looked like “an open studio at an MFA program”. My friend was reacting against the lack of space to move around any one piece, to truly see it and attempt to take it in, without bumping into either people or other works of art. In all, visiting this biennial (as well as the 5 or 6 I’ve seen before this, I should add) is a rather stressful and uncomfortable experience; perhaps especially so for those of us who have the luxury to visit Chelsea weekly and often find ourselves to be the only visitor in a gallery at a time. What’s most annoying to me is that with all the clutter, movement and distracting chatter, it is impossible to establish a new relationship to an artist’s work that I have never seen before. That, it seems, should be one of the biennial’s most important purposes. As it is, it resembles a big, well-attended art fair, both in aesthetics and function, with the exception that sales staff is really hard to come by.

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After that last visit to the Whitney, I’ve thought quite a bit about the relationship between Art and Money. It is a curious matter; equally loathed and celebrated in the art world, it commands an enormous pull on people. This was evident as I earlier this month attended a panel discussion at the New School titled precisely “Art & Money”.

The Art Forum sponsored event drew a rather large crowd and in the row behind me, two well-dressed women in their late thirties or early forties – overloaded with various designer store bags that banged into the back of my head – took their seats at the last minute. Clearly, these two either had no idea how distracting they were as they kept moving around their bags while in their seats, or they simply didn’t care. Thankfully for those of us next to them, the panel didn’t meet their expectations and less than halfway through it, the two women left, their bags hitting the back of my head a second time as they tried to squeeze out of the aisle.

Having seen (and felt!) their shopping bags, I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps they had come looking forward to more specific information and advice in regards to the art market, rather than listen to the panel’s general definitions on the many relationships between art and money. After all, the description of the panel discussion promised an exploration of “…contemporary art’s production, presentation, and acquisition during a radical expansion of public interest and market forces” as well as to raise questions like: “Is the current boom another chapter in an older, modernist history, or is it truly unprecedented? How did contemporary art, of seemingly endless supply, become so dear?” and “Why has contemporary art reached so far beyond traditional borders, and how does that affect the world’s artists? Who gets rich, who stays poor, and who decides?”. Quite some ground to cover.

Unfortunately for the two annoying shoppers, the most interesting point of the debate came right after they left. Amy Cappellazzo, who is the Co-Head at Christie’s, started out by claiming that the way to have a real-time interaction with a work of art was to observe it being sold in auction upon which she received a well-founded objection from the panel’s most interesting character: Kathy Halbreich, MoMA’s newly appointed Associate Director. Halbreich raised her opposing point of view by asking if it isn’t the moment of viewing, experiencing and establishing a relationship with a work of art that really represents a true real-time interaction. While the panelists quickly moved on, this question stayed with me. I whole-heartedly share Halbreich’s opinion on this matter, and it now brings me back to where my rambling started; the 2008 Whitney Biennial.

I can’t help but think that this bi-annual exhibit is in dire need of a spring cleaning by someone with a passion, experience and intellect that equals Kathy Halbreich’s. The current art fair-style showcase seems old and cynical and as a visitor I find myself pushing past people as if at Grand Central in rush hour, longing for both depth and dimension. It seems relevant to again remind ourselves that less, a lot of times, is a whole lot more…

Imagine if the Whitney, rather than cramming one or two or three works by 80 or so artists into the limited space at the museum, instead made the rather bold decision to invite only 10 artists. A selection process as narrow as that would be very demanding, no doubt, but assuming that the chosen artists would get at least a full year to prepare (perhaps even receive some funding from the institution!), the return, I’m convinced, would be assured.

By giving the artists a full 12 months to work, with few physical and mental (and possibly also financial) limitations and time-constraints, the work would be allowed to expand and flourish in every possible direction. This way, the work would be allowed to come to life in front of its audience and a much longed for opportunity of genuine, in depth, real-time interaction with art would be possible.