Since the 1980s, Fraser’s art has manifested across a diverse range of formats — performances, films, installations, workshops, analyses, texts, publications, interviews, activism, and teaching. Her initial performances were situated at the nexus of a distinct tradition of feminist performance and ‘institutional critique’ (notably influenced by the ideas of Pierre Bourdieu). Fraser achieved prominence and significance within artistic discourse through her frequently provocative actions and accompanying, pioneering texts in the field of institutional critique, as well as her challenge to the operational modes of the art world. The artist emphasises the presence of all agents who establish the rules of engagement within this sphere, revealing the structure and dynamics of power among groups such as audiences, artists, critics, collectors, gallerists, public institution personnel, patrons, sponsors, politicians, and investors.

Andrea Fraser executes ‘analytical interventions’ (a term coined by Bourdieu), engaging her comprehensive ‘self’: voice, body, and emotional realm. Integrating herself into actions that expose the behaviours of figures within this social sphere, she adopts feminist artistic practices and activism grounded in direct and emphatically marked presence as her point of departure. Concurrently, by embodying various personas (subjects within the system), she demonstrates considerable acting proficiency. Within an atmosphere of pathos, parody, and humour, she alternates between the roles of artist, critic, art dealer, politician, and sponsor, among others — characters differentiated by gender, profession, and psychological profile — accentuating these transitions through subtle variations in demeanour or vocal modulation.

In 2018, Fraser released 2016: Museums, Money, and Politics, an examination of the intersecting relationships between electoral politics and private non-profit art institutions in the United States during a critical historical juncture: the presidential election. In this extensive publication, the artist meticulously documented reported political party contributions made by trustees from over 125 art museums, representing every state nationwide. This election cycle became the most costly in American history, with over 6.4 billion dollars amassed for presidential and congressional campaigns. Notably, over half of these funds originated from a select few hundred individuals, many of whom also support cultural institutions and hold positions on their governing boards. Presented in a format reminiscent of a directory, the contribution data is organised into colour-coded tables, alphabetised by donor surname. This publication underscores another key area of Fraser’s investigative focus: the intricate relationship between the political and cultural spheres.

The exhibition Art Must Hang features a selection of works spanning from the late 1980s to her most recent productions. This period encapsulates over three decades of the artist’s critical engagement in the analytical investigation of the complex relationality of art. The exhibition also incorporates textual works and documentation. Designed in collaboration with the artist, the show elucidates both the evolution of her art and the current phase of her continuously developing artistic practice. The works are organized into several thematic sections. The exhibition commences with Woman 1/Madonna and Child (1984), an artistic book presented as a fictional exhibition brochure, and proceeds with works that expand upon her critical examination of the museum: Museum Highlights: A Gallery Talk (1989), Welcome to the Wadsworth (1991), Little Frank and His Carp (2001), and A Visit to the Sistine Chapel (2005), which address the manipulation of art reception, social values, and the hierarchies institutionalized by museums. Further works address the role of art in an era of globalisation, the significance and expansion of museums, major international exhibitions and fairs, the rituals of global art event openings, as well as neo-colonialism and economic globalisation, which contribute to the increasing commodification of art and the artist: Reporting from São Paulo (1998), Inaugural Speech (1997), and Soldadera (1998/2002). The themes of class, the art market, wealth concentration, and exclusion are represented by May I Help You? (2005), Untitled (audio installation, 2003/2004), and the textual work L’1%, c’est moi (2011). Three other films in the exhibition, while not formally a trilogy, are united by their distinct production method and formal strategy. Projection (2008), Men on the Line (2012/2014), and This Meeting Is Being Recorded (2021) were created employing methods of psychoanalysis and the examination of psychological and social structures that form individual and collective identity, reproducing relations of dominance or unconscious racism. They are based on a multi-vocal performative practice, filmed against a black backdrop and displayed at life-size to enhance the experience of sharing space with the artist, who directly addresses the camera. Here, moving beyond direct art criticism, Fraser focuses on politics and psychoanalysis, exploring how intellectual and political positions are driven by emotional needs and how psychological forces shape or are shaped by socio-political structures.

Official Welcome (2001/2003), a unique performance within the context of the institution–artist relationship, is a recording of the exhibition opening at the Hamburg Kunstverein in 2003, addressing the dysfunctional dynamics between artists and exhibition organisers. Fraser embodies various art world figures, including patron, museum director, curator, critic, and artist, employing diverse vocal registers and demeanours, encompassing modesty, indifference, pomposity, and disdain. When one character, an oppressed post-feminist, disrobes to her undergarments and high heels, her self-reflexivity and wit are striking: ‘Today I’m not a person. I am an object in a work of art. It’s about emptiness.’ The entire address incorporates direct quotations from contemporary artists and critics, including art historian Benjamin Buchloh, Gabriel Orozco, Damien Hirst, Tracey Emin, and Kara Walker, as well as remarks by Bill and Hillary Clinton. While Fraser does not explicitly disclose the specific role she assumes at any given moment, transitions between personas are signalled by alterations in her tone, language, and posture, often for comedic effect.

Fraser exposes the pretence inherent in these positions, highlighting the pervasiveness of such pronouncements within the self-congratulatory art world. The work synthesises conflicting emotions, ranging from gratitude to cynicism and contempt, as it addresses the inherent ambivalence of contemporary art — the love-hate relationship that binds artists to art, its institutions, and their patrons. The artist acknowledges, ‘To some extent, this piece was driven by my sense of resentment and envy of my professional peers about whom all these great things were said.’

The exhibition’s title, Art Must Hang, derives from Fraser’s performance Kunst muss hängen, first presented at Galerie Christian Nagel in Cologne in 2001. In this work, the artist reenacted an improvised speech delivered by German artist Martin Kippenberger at the opening of an exhibition featuring his friend Michael Würthle’s work at Club an der Grenze in Burgenland, Austria, in 1995. This title was inspired by an encounter between Fraser and Kippenberger during her first exhibition at Galerie Christian Nagel in 1990, where she exhibited aluminum disks bearing faces. These works repeatedly fell from the walls, prompting Kippenberger to remark, ‘Art must hang.’ Fraser elaborates: ‘Kippenberger’s drunken, impromptu dinner speech that I performed as Art Must Hang . . . is full of what from an American perspective are misogynous, homophobic, and xenophobic elements. Now, it may be that misogyny, homophobia, and xenophobia were attributes of a certain position in the German art world and society that Kippenberger consciously took up and performed. It may also be that he was, in fact, misogynistic, homophobic, and xenophobic on some level.’ Consequently, the work can be interpreted as both an ambivalent homage to Kippenberger and a parody of the macho archetype — the inebriated, critical, male genius. Fraser utilises caricature while simultaneously embodying the ambiguity of the artist’s position. As a German painter conforming to the ‘bad boy’ stereotype, Kippenberger occupied a vastly different position within the art world than Fraser — an American artist and intellectual, representing a commitment to critical theory and psychoanalysis.

Art Must Hang also, I hope, lays the groundwork for a multifaceted exploration of the relationship between art and institutions in Poland, particularly at a time when many of them are recovering and reconstructing their identities. Does art truly need to hang? The answer to this crucial question often hinges on political circumstances, as recent years have demonstrated. However, another question persists: will Polish institutions possess the courage to critically examine their operational mechanisms? What are the prospects for environmental shifts, the institutional status quo, and the attitudes of those in leadership positions? Do we have a chance to engage in critical reflection that extends into the ethical domain?

The exhibition contains elements of nudity and audio content of a sexual nature. We strongly request an informed approach to the material on display. The exhibition is intended for adults.

curator: Maria Brewińska
production: Karolina Jezierska-Pomorska, Dominika Kaszewska, Anna Muszyńska
installation: Andrzej Bialik, Dariusz Bochenek, Remigiusz Olszewski, Grzegorz Ostromecki and Eidotech Polska
inventory: Monika Zaleszczuk
conservator: Michalina Sobierajska
exhibition communication: Zofia Koźniewska, Milena Liebe, Alicja Malicka, Aleksandra Sienkiewicz, Alicja Sznajder, Justyna Wydra
educational programme: Daria Kubilisz, Amina Olszewska, Anna Owsiany, Monika Weychert, Adam Wilk, Jędrzej Zakrzewski
accessibility: Pamela Bożek, Paulina Celińska, Emilia Rudzka