Monet had his lilies, Degas his dancers. If one leitmotif defines the madcap oeuvre of Jason Rhoades, it’s pussy. By the time he died, in 2006 at the age of forty-one, Rhoades had collected more than seven thousand euphemisms for female genitalia in several languages. He was on a quest, he said, for “the ultimate pussy word.” This dubious grail—a satirical ode to testosterone-addled idolatry and locker-room patois—gave rise to brashly festive sculptures and performances, as well as delirious, room-size installations. His series “Pussy Trilogy,” 2003–2006, for instance, addressed the crossroads of East and West, sex, religion, and commerce in works such as Meccatuna, 2003, a project involving a scale model of the Kaaba shrine made of Lego bricks. Rhoades was fascinated by the history of Islam, particularly Mohammed’s destruction of false gods in Mecca, and his late works explore what we fetishize—from material trinkets to getting laid. Tijuanatanjierchandelier, 2006, the artist’s last major piece, which made its New York debut at David Zwirner, deals with similar themes. Dozens of vaginal appellations, immortalized in neon cursive, gave the gallery a sordid radiance. Some of the slang terms are gross (STENCH TRENCH); others are ridiculous (PINK SLINKY). Many are both (FILTHY HATCHET WOUND). They hung in clusters, like radioactive fruit, from his signature “chandeliers”: snarls of electrical cables, metal spokes, chintzy souvenirs, taxidermied animal heads, and suggestive dribbles of glue. With their dense tangles of baubles and hardware, the works resembled gonzo weather vanes after a cyclone. Tijuanatanjierchandelier, which was presented first in Málaga, Spain, then at the Fifty-Second Venice Biennale, simulates a sprawling bazaar—the kind of open-air market that crops up near the mouths of tourist attractions. Rhoades gathered the knickknacks on display from vendors in Tijuana and Tangier, and arrayed them on striped serapes and kilim rugs along the perimeter of the space. In the center of the gallery, ten mattresses lay at random angles on an island of overlapping carpets. Piles of faded, torn-up T-shirts suggested dead leaves waiting to be bagged. Read more at Artforum.
Installation view, Jason Rhoades: Tijuanatanjierchandelier, David Zwirner, New York, 2019