At the Western Front until November 25

Shopdropping is an upbeat ode to the power of creative individuals to insert humour, irreverence, and quirky beauty into the faceless world of commerce. Subtitled Experiments in the Aisle, this group show originated in San Francisco and was organized by the artists’ collective known as Pond: art, activism, ideas. Its focus here is on situating alternative and experimental forms of public art within the huge retail chains and conglomerates that dominate the North American marketplace.

Pond, which was cofounded by Marisa Jahn and Steve Shada, insists in its statement that it’s not interested in “a reductivist commodity critique”. Still, the interventionist art Jahn and Shada have generated and commissioned does expand our critical thinking about our all-encompassing retail environment. Since many of the original works were performance-based, involving social interactions or subversive exchanges, the exhibition consists largely of photo and video documentation. Still, there are enough objects here to satisfy the most commodity-oriented of viewers.

These include Zoë Sheehan Saldaña’s handmade works (a paper bag, a cloth hat), the likes of which she substituted for their mass-market equivalents. It’s a disconcerting flip of values: trading sharply downward by replacing the machine-made or sweatshop-produced object with a highly esteemed, artist-generated item. Questions of commercial and cultural value lead to thoughts about our complicity in supporting appalling labour conditions in the developing world, where the vast majority
of what we consume is produced.

Much of the art represented here has been smuggled into stores and “reverse shoplifted” by artists. Such works include tags and labels attached to garments in both high-end and discount outlets. The messages printed on the labels include surrealist-style statements (“This is not a price tag”), stabs at sardonic self-awareness (“There is a certain satisfaction I get from overpaying for everything”), and fictional anecdotes (“Inspected by 66/She tried to write her name in the snow—it ended badly”). In similar actions, crude papier-mâché and ceramic depictions (some made by children) of actual products have been set amongst the merchandise they mimic.

In other instances, slick, commercial-looking products or subtly altered packaging have been insinuated into the retail realm. Eva Strohmeier’s Enchanted Aisles records, through a hidden video camera, the reactions of grocery shoppers to motion-activated spook-house sounds hidden in pancake-mix and detergent boxes. Packard Jennings also uses guerrilla video to document what occurs when he takes his own Benito Mussolini action figure (the utterly convincing plastic doll in its utterly convincing packaging is on view here) to a checkout counter at Wal-Mart. The item doesn’t scan and consternation ensues. Still, you have to admire the unnamed cashier, who maintains a happy attitude throughout.

Another delightful intervention was made by Marc Horowitz, a professional photographer who solicited dinner engagements with strangers by very subtly inserting his name and number into a home-office shoot he was hired to create for a Crate & Barrel catalogue. The sweet, community-oriented nature of Horowitz’s project typifies the message of the exhibition, which is not so much buyer beware as buyer be aware. Be amused, too.