Steve McQueen Exhibit

 Steve McQueen eponymous exhibition at The Art Institute of Chicago is emblematic of his oeuvre; it’s dominated by visual images—often short films—reflecting his personal fascinations.

The first station one encounters at the exhibit is “Static.” From 2009, it’s a continuous projection of slightly over seven minutes in which McQueen circles the Statue of Liberty in a helicopter. The resulting short film shows the iconic figure from rarely-seen angles, like from behind “Lady Liberty,” and loud helicopter noises assault the ears, then fade into ghostly silence. The result is a new, unique perspective of a familiar landmark.

One of McQueen’s earliest works, “Bear,” is another continuous projection short film.

In 1993, McQueen completed the soundless, black-and-white, video, and he’s “described it as one of the cornerstones of his career to date,” according to the guidebook that serves as a complement to the exhibition.

 It depicts two naked, African-American men—one of whom is McQueen—apparently in a fight. The two circle each other aggressively, like in a boxing match, and occasionally grapple with each other. But, they also embrace and leer at each other coquettishly. This work blurs the line between fighting and an amorous encounter, like individuals engaging in rough foreplay.

“Girls, Tricky,” from 2001, has traces of the many instances of artists documenting musicians, like, for example, Martin Scorsese’s filming “The Rolling Stone’s” for 2008’s “Shine a Light,” plus many others. Here, though, McQueen filmed musician “Tricky” (Adrian Thaws) rehearsing and recording the song “Girls.” The video lasts nearly fifteen minutes; at times, it’s brutal to watch—less singing than anguished caterwauling. It’s rough and abrasive, because Tricky is an artist really putting all of himself into the music. It’s true, honest, and sincere.

McQueen was quoted as explaining, “It’s a rare moment that you see an artist close up gearing himself up for such a vocal performance in such a visual way. In effect, a moment not for camera is caught.”

Though most of the works in the exhibition are visual images—either moving or still—“Queen and Country” is an oak cabinet containing a series of 160 facsimile postage sheets; it’s also the most overtly political work in the exhibit. Presented here for the first time outside of the U.K., it’s McQueen’s tribute to the British men and women who died in the Iraq War.

The photos of the deceased, as the guidebook explains, “were turned into facsimile sheets of perforated stamps . . .The sheets are housed in an oak cabinet with sliding vertical drawers and ordered chronologically by the subject’s date of death.”

From farther back, the oak cabinet looks like a casket, and the soldiers are merely planks that make up the whole, but they become individualized when one removes the sheets bearing their names and photos. That’s a poignant and reflective moment, and it’s a brilliant piece.

McQueen, a London-born artist who’s been honored with the prestigious Turner Prize, gained a foothold in the public consciousness in 2011 with his second feature film, “Shame,” starring Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan. The two actors, and McQueen’s writing and direction of the film, received numerous critical accolades and awards nominations. Despite that new success, McQueen’s first gained renown for his artwork, and the collection on display here in Chicago from Oct. 21, 2012-Jan. 6, 2013, is a showcase of his work from the last 20 years.