BY CHANTAL MARTINEAU

 

 

It's surprising to find such a traditionally macho mantra touted in the world of modern art. But critics chanted it loud and proud at the turn of the century when an old power station in London was reborn as the Tate Modern. And now that New York has unveiled its own giant, the cry can be heard once again: bigger is better.

 

Last year, Dia Art Foundation based in Manhattan's Chelsea neighborhood opened the doors to Dia:Beacon, a gargantuan gallery on the bank of the Hudson river some 60 miles north of New York City. It's the latest success story in a string of industrial spaces converted to house contemporary art. The 31-acre site located in the Duchess County town of Beacon features the vast Riggio Galleries: colossal, naturally-lit exhibition rooms filled with, well, big art.

 

A coverage of 300,000 square feet makes Dia:Beacon twice the size of Tate Modern. The historic converted Nabisco box factory, a chunky 1929 concrete-and-glass structure exemplary of the era's industrial architecture, houses some of the world’s most important modern art from the Sixties to present day. Gerhard Richter, Blinky Palermo and Agnes Martin are there, to name a few, and, of course, there's the regulation Warhol exhibit. However, Dia’s choice of Warhol's Shadows paintings rather than the standard Elvis or Jackie O. silkscreen series attests to the gallery's forged aesthetic.

 

The multi-canvas work, said to be inspired by a shadow cast in the artist's studio, is just as Expressionist as it is Minimalist. It wraps itself around the room, leaving the observer surrounded. Visitors seem to gravitate to the hollow center of the room rather than wandering along the walls, inspecting the paintings up close. The installation allows the work to be seen the way it should be: a ribbon of analogous images, some 350 linear feet of canvas, enveloping the viewer. The entire chamber provides the backdrop to the piece.

 

Upon first seeing such an impressive space, it's easy to assume it came first, the big art second. Visitors can be forgiven for entertaining the notion that there might have been some great quest for large-scale works to fill Beacon's spacious exhibition halls. In fact, the collection existed first.

 

 

"One of the great qualities of the building is the light," explains Cooke. It's the north-facing saw-tooth skylights – 34,000 sq. ft of them – that supply the staggering effects of reflected light, showcasing the works so effectively.

 

Certain artists represented were very particular about how their works should be displayed. Donald Judd, for example, felt it essential that his work – a series of plywood boxes, identical on the outside, unique once you peer in – be showcased in natural daylight. He believes converted industrial buildings are better suited to frame contemporary art than most modern, purpose-built structures. In the case of Michael Heizer's Double Negative (1969), a sizable venue was necessary. Although the massive round and rectangular cavities that make up the piece are, in fact, made up of nothing, emptiness, they require a considerable area to be displayed. Certain fixtures are hard to imagine existing anywhere other than the bright, open white-walled warehouse. John Chamberlain's mashed automotive creations are clunky masses of steel unsuited to a small, urban venue. Just as art transforms the space around it, the reverse holds true as well. Certain pieces need room to breathe and stand alone, so they can impress and loom over their audience.

 

Some of the gallery's inner rooms provide more controlled low light for exhibits like Bernd and Hilla Becher's black and white photographs of industrial architecture. Hanne Darboven's epic myriad of social and political memorabilia sprawls through several rooms in various degrees of brightness, as some materials incorporated are more sensitive to light. The cavernous basement, reminiscent of the last rave you attended all those years ago, is ideal for housing projections like Bruce Nauman's Mapping The Studio I (Fat Chance John Cage) (2001), a compilation of footage taken using an infrared lamp to track mice in his studio at night. The attic, all creaky unfinished floorboards, confined, musky smells and dark, eerie corners, is perfect for more atmospheric installations like those of Louise Bourgeois. Her displaced Spider (1997), originally shown at Tate Modern, found a home in Beacon, along with a number of other grotesque, organic and sexually suggestive shapes that make up her body of work. Larvae-like lumps and fetal cocoons lurk in dark recesses or hang in plain, gaudy sight from the ceiling.

 

Each artist was assigned his or her own site, giving each exhibit the feeling of being a private window into a particular aspect of an artist's work. In many instances, the artists themselves assisted in assembling their own shows. The rooms that benefit most from the north light pouring in and reflecting off the high, white walls are those best suited to house paintings and sculpture. Walter De Maria’s The Equal Area Series is well served by the natural light. Comprised of 15 pairs of solid, polished stainless steel circles and squares installed on the coarse wood floor in a row that spans the long, wide room, the work seems to showcase the space as much as the space showcases the work.

 

"I'm always moved by it," says Cooke of the gallery. "It's so luminous."

What is also striking, she adds, is the building's flexibility. Dia:Beacon does not impose on its patrons the archetypal chronology other institutions inflict. With multiple accesses and potential routes, there is no one best way to view the collection. People are free to wander wherever their attention spans happen to lead. With so much space and freedom of choice there is little chance of crowding. But, then, isn't that the point of minimalism? The vast space isn't meant to swallow the works and the people viewing them. Instead, it provides a seamless frame, a logical platform for such outsized or ascetic installations.

 

The over-$50 million museum project was creatively spearheaded by featured artist Robert Irwin. His contribution to the collection is his master plan for Dia:Beacon's grounds. Cooke's favorite part of his design is the entry pavilion, intended to hold visitors for a moment before they walk out into the tree-lined plaza that leads to the entrance of the exhibition halls. Fruit trees in the parking lot and a garden in the museum's backyard reinforce the contrast between the lush, green landscape and airy, Spartan interior. A mini wine bar overlooking the garden adds a touch of country class, like summering in Southern France or Martha's Vineyard.

 

The 80-minute train ride from Grand Central Terminal might give the impression of heading into quaint, clean countryside. Despite what you might be led to believe by flyers handed out at the station, the town of Beacon is not exactly a charming upstate New York destination for antique hunters and back-road travelers. Its boarded-up Main Street and clusters of unsmiling youths on street corners lend to the town's ghettoized feel.

 

The people behind Dia hope to revitalize Beacon's artistic nature. The more than 100,000 people visiting each year will energize the town's economy, according to Cooke, as well as its art community.

 

"People will travel out of the city. One of the great things we have found so far is that colleagues and other professionals in the art world are already going back. It's gratifying that they feel they want to look at the works again."

There are plans to round out the collection with a few acquisitions, says Cooke, although not many. With little free space in the galleries at present, she has no interest in expanding simply for the sake of expansion. Most works are intended for long-term presentation and aren't particularly easy to move, such as Richard Serra's mammoth steel sculptures. Visitors can explore the unpredictable interior of each 20-ton solid structure. Or New York artist Lawrence Weiner's work, printed directly onto the wall. Using language as his medium has allowed him to express unpolluted truths about art.

 

Few people come to the end of their visit and leave the premises immediately. Most are tempted to linger in the gardens or meander about the grounds, especially on a clear day. It's as though Irwin designed it so that people can sit with a glass of wine, discuss the art or the trees…whatever. Patrons can expect to see something new every other year or so, be it a new acquisition or additional part of an existing installment. In the meantime, many are hopping on the Beacon bandwagon, going back for seconds and thirds. Some of us, after all, have big appetites.