Crossing the Wealth Line

50 years after Hans Haacke's Shapolsky et al.

Hans Haacke, Shapolsky et al. Manhattan Real Estate Holdings, a Real-Time Social System, as of May 1, 1971. Image courtesy of the artist. © Hans Haacke/Artist Rights Society (ARS).

At a meeting with top curators a few years ago, we were discussing the work of Mexican artist Teresa Margolles — whose use of bodily fluids from corpses is often a component of her reflections on death and violence.  At some point, one of the curators remarked, in a very spontaneous way: “I mean, can art be radical anymore?” The argument went something like this: outside of outright criminality or causing physical harm onto others, contemporary art practice has by now  seemingly crossed every line in the areas of race, sex, religion and politics.  Even crossing those lines, the argument went, no longer made a work necessarily radical.

The one thing the group refrained from mentioning in that conversation was the one that, at least in the American institutional context, largely remains taboo: standing up to the influence of the wealthy—from those who might wield influence in the socioeconomic sphere of the elite to those who are actual supporters of the institution (e.g. members of the board of a museum).

I am not someone particularly interested in marking historical anniversaries. However, I recently started reflecting that one of the most influential works of the second half of the 20th century, which directly crossed that line and became a foundational piece of institutional critique, is turning 50 years old this year: Hans Haacke’s Shapolsky et al. Manhattan Real Estate Holdings, a Real-Time Social System, as of May 1, 1971.

A year before creating this work Haacke had participated in MoMA’s exhibition Information, where he had created a poll inviting visitors to vote on a simple question: Would the fact that Governor Rockefeller has not denounced President Nixon’s Indochina policy be a reason for you not to vote for him in November?

The Shapolsky et al. piece was meant to be part of a solo exhibition at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum. The show was canceled before the opening by the then director, Thomas Messer, ostensibly due to the concern around the controversy it would  potentially trigger. Shapolsky et al. has been the subject of many essays and articles, some of which have provided inaccurate information about the piece’s background. In order to provide the full context, I include Haacke’s own description of the piece here, written recently:

In 1971 the Shapolsky real-estate group, headed by Harry Shapolsky and nominally owned by about seventy different corporations, frequently bought, sold, and mortgaged properties within the group. What amounted to self-dealing had tax advantages (mortgage payments are tax-deductible) and obscured the actual ownership of the properties. The boards of these seventy odd corporations included at least one member of the Shapolsky family or someone with close ties. The 142 known properties were located predominantly on the Lower East Side and in Harlem - in 1971 both slum areas of New York City - where they constituted the largest concentration of real estate under the control of a single group. The information for the work was culled from public records at the New York County Clerk's Office.

Thomas Messer, then the director of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, rejected this work and two other works which had been made for a solo exhibition at the Museum. He canceled the exhibition six weeks before the opening when the artist refused to withdraw the disputed works. Messer called them "inappropriate" for exhibition at the museum and stated he had to "fend off an alien substance that had entered the art museum organism." Edward F. Fry, the curator of the exhibition, was fired when he defended the works. Artists held a protest demonstration in the Museum. Over one hundred pledged not to exhibit at the Guggenheim "until the policy of art censorship and its advocates are changed."

Many commentators assumed that the trustees of the Guggenheim Museum had links to the Shapolsky real estate group. There is no evidence to support such suspicions.

Further, according to Haacke, the canceled Guggenheim exhibition included a visitor poll with questions on socio-political issues. Later that same year Haacke was able to conduct the poll at an exhibition at the Milwaukee Art Center.

It is important to remember that the dominant art forms of the early 1970s such as Minimalism and Conceptual Art, mostly centered their considerations around the object and the viewer in the space. In this sense, Haacke’s work during that period was unique in that he instead drew attention to a contextual element in American institutions that was largely unaddressed: the politics of financial power, and its relationship to culture.

While, as Haacke himself clarifies, Shapolsky was not a museum trustee, nor was there evidence that he was connected to the board, it is hard not to see the Guggenheim director’s haste in censoring the work as the result to his fear of creating a confrontation with a powerful individual who might have been part of the social circles of the upper class in New York City and possibly connected (or not) to individuals on the board of the museum or potential private donors. It is also an early example of an artist pointing the finger to a sphere where true economic power resides in this city— real estate. Another piece in the exhibition, which historically has received less attention (perhaps because of the fact that the Shapolsky properties were in the slum areas), was “Sol Goldman and Alex DiLorenzo Manhattan Real Estate Holdings, a Real-Time Social System, as of May 1, 1971.” Goldman and DiLorenzo owned various high-end properties, including the Chrysler Building.

In 1974 Haacke did develop a work that explicitly outlined the corporate affiliations of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum trustees. This, as well as the Shapolsky work, prefaces the many institutional critique works by artists that later emerge in the 80s and 90s (ranging from the diagrams of Mark Lombardi tracing financial and political frauds to the work of Andrea Fraser and Walid Raad).

The legacy of Haacke’s work looms large in our current moment of public scrutiny around museum board member activities. I thus reached out to Hans Haacke himself to ask him a few questions regarding his work seen from the present vantage point. His answers are below.

Q.      In recent months the unethical and/or corrupt practices of museum trustees have become harder to ignore by the art world and the museums themselves, and institutional silence does not seem to be a viable alternative (I am referring to the recent Warren Kanders departure from the Whitney's board and Leon Black stepping down from MoMA's board leadership).  Do you think things have changed from the time you produced the Shapolsky et al.?  Do you think it would be any different if you had produced the work today?

A.     As I understand it, in this country, museum directors and curators are appointed by the board of trustees and depend on the board’s backing. If that assumption is correct, it requires pressure from the board and potentially a vote by the board members for a trustee to leave. In many European countries, where most of the major museums are public institutions, their leadership requires the backing of political entities of the city, the province  or the nation’s capital. Sometimes, there are also donors with influence.  – I have been censored in the US and in Germany. The reason that many institutions here and there are not eager to do exhibitions with me is, that in both regions, the institutional leaders are worried it could pose a problem for them. Nevertheless, I have had more major exhibitions outside the US than in this country.– The fact that Kanders, MoMA trustees, and trustees in other institutions resigned or were pushed out, makes me believe, public attention and pressure is more influential today than it has been in the past.

Q.  Artist Michael Rakowitz pointed out recently that when scandals emerge regarding the practices or behavior of museum board members the pressure is on artists to speak out, but institutions largely remain silent. Do you agree?

A. In the old days of the Art Workers Coalition and other activist groups of artists, there were many public demonstrations inside or at the gates of museums – also when my show at the Guggenheim Museum was cancelled. They were important and, eventually, contributed to some shifts in the climate.  Without keeping issues in the public discussion change is unlikely to happen.

Q.      The private/public model of the museum seems to be particularly problematic in accepting accountability for corrupt or unethical practices. American museum directors, when faced with public demands about their trustees, usually protect themselves by arguing that museum boards are self-appointed bodies of a private entity (albeit with a non-profit public mission) and as such museum directors have no agency in telling the board how to govern themselves. Should there be revisions to that model so that it would allow for some kind of accountability, such as having the institution lose its non-profit status?

A.      I wish I had an answer that is practical and would lead to the desired result. To some extent, money and/or political interests always govern our lives. It often depends which of the two are closer to our personal ideas about what should happen in the art world – and the world at large. Part of what I said in my answer to your first question is relevant here as well. Most likely, museums and artists would be better served, if curators and directors were not under the thumb of trustees whose interests might be in conflict with the commitment of these art professionals.