Walking through the Whitney last week, I was struck by how many L.A. artists are in this year’s Biennial. In what is traditionally a New York centric showcase, Los Angeles artists are taking center stage.

When I got back to L.A., I went to the public library to do some research and discovered that my suspicions were correct: there are more L.A. artists in this biennial than there were in six previous Biennials, 1977, 1983, 1987, 1991, 1995, and 2000.

How big are the differences? The following chart highlights them:

YEAR    NY    LA

1977     66%    12%
1983    67%     7%
1987    70%     8%
1991    60%     7%
1995    64%     9%
2000  48%     9%
2008  52%   33%

Why are there so many more L.A. artists in the Biennial this year? Is it because of a new curatorial direction at the Whitney that is reaching out to artistic communities other than New York’s? Is this part of an effort to combat the New York art scene’s infamous provincialism? Or, is it that compared to the past, more compelling work is now being generated in L.A.? While it’s impossible to divine the reasons for the Whitney’s curatorial choices, it is refreshing to see that the booming L.A. art scene is producing local artists that are able to win precious turf in the sine qua non American exhibition of new talent.

Does the work from L.A. in the Biennial have a particular character? No, but the L.A. artists’ aesthetic does favor text-based work and frequently incorporates a soft-edged minimalism. This, combined with tendencies towards uniform coloration and oblique conceptualism, give a sense that California cool has matured into a self-aware, 21st century critique. Though the content of the work covers diverse areas, several pieces address how social issues affect Los Angeles. Harry Dodge and Stanya Kahn created a disturbing and humorous video, Can’t Swallow It, Can’t Spit It Out (2006), where Kahn tells the camera frightening stories of comical abuse while wearing a viking helmet and waving a giant piece of foam rubber cheese. Filmed in the desiccated places of Los Angeles, they show how L.A., emptied of people at street level, is replete with one thing, off-kilter kookiness.

Also contending with L.A.’s tortured landscape, Charles Long fashioned replicas of great blue heron feces out of river junk, silt, and papier-mache in Untitled (2007-08). By fabricating archeological remnants, he both traces and manufactures the existence of these mythical creatures along the nearly empty Los Angeles river.

Frances Stark created a character, perhaps herself, in her large, text-based collage, Structures That Fit My Opening and Other Parts Considered in Their Relation to the Whole (2006), which examines the role gender plays in the character’s sense of identity as an artist. A native Southern Californian, her work is set against the backdrop of contemporary Los Angeles - a city whose renowned fetishization and subjugation of women influences the tone of the piece.

By dint of its subtle commentaries, L.A. art has begun to enter international consciousness. The artists featured in the exhibit, perhaps representative of L.A. artists in general, draw the viewer into an unadulterated realm of pure Los Angeles, a hushed interior where social critiques must be phrased in subtleties in order to be heard. They are creating a new kind of work, one that is neither derived from New York’s linear minimalism, nor from Europe’s obsessional preoccupation with marxist critique and situationist interventions; instead, the work in the Biennial shows us that L.A. is developing an aesthetic that reflects on its culture by glancing into its rear view mirror; an approach that creates a kind subliminal sublime, where the cruelty of the city is barely noticed but thoroughly felt.

The 2008 Whitney Biennial is on display through June 1, 2008 at the Whitney Museum, 945 Madison Ave. New York, N.Y.

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