content warnings: depictions of human and anthro nudity, discussion of bestiality, modern art

Credit where it's due: it is genuinely, unironically baller for the Whitney museum to make the exhibit about how a disabled artist wants to fuck their dog the first one that people see when they attend the prestigious Whitney Biennial, their every-two-year showcase of new and emerging American talents. You know, the one that's supposed to be a barometer of where America is at these days.

Unfortunately, not only do they fail to commit to the bit, the critics then fail to point this out and condemn them for it. Like, here is how one art critic at ArtReview describes it:

Visitors first encounter Emilie Louise Gossiaux’s Kong Play (2025) – a hundred or so small, brightly coloured snowman-shaped ceramics arranged on a low two-tiered pedestal. These sculptures are modelled after Kong chew toys, a tribute to the artist’s guide dog (Gossiaux lost their vision in a bicycle accident in 2012). Accompanying Kong Play are variously titled ballpoint pen and crayon drawings by Gossiaux that depict the artist playing with a jaunty, sometimes bipedal, white canine. The exhibition thus opens tenderly – without fanfare, without friction.

And another, from artnet:

Emilie Louise Gossiaux’s tribute to their deceased seeing-eye dog opens the show on the fifth floor, a suite of winsome drawings of the artist with their pooch, plus a landscape of ceramic dog toys meant to evoke “doggy heaven” for their lost helper... As an opening gambit for the biennial, it signals a “sincerity first” credo, as William Van Meter wrote yesterday; art that promises a vicarious sense of emotional connection over impressive form—the look of conceptual art, but with concepts swapped out for feelings.^[1]

Here's one more, from a 4Columns reporter who proclaims this installation to be one of their favourites from the entire 50-person show:

It’s an installation of drawings and sculptures by Emilie Louise Gossiaux, made in memory of (and, as they say, in collaboration with) their guide dog, London, who died last September. On a pedestal on the floor are one hundred ceramic replicas of London’s favorite chew toy. Surrounding this are eleven smallish framed drawings depicting person and dog snuggling, cavorting, their bodies commingling. The drawings are naïve in style, their lines incidental, and they poignantly capture the

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HauntingBlackness666

HauntingBlackness666