Inside the gallery, a remarkable 70-foot table commands attention, nearly spanning the entire room. Adorned with an astonishing collection of objects, the table is scattered with over 300 translucent, vibrantly colored beaded trivets, 193 intricately bejeweled faux fruits and vegetables, 109 diverse wooden canes, 40 badminton rackets, 21 delicate glass fish, and 18 leather slippers meticulously covered in sequins and buttons.
One might initially assume that ‘Mammoth,’ Nick Cave’s latest installation opening February 13 at the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, is the whimsical creation of an eccentric collector. However, Cave himself quickly dispels this notion: ‘You would think I’m a hoarder,’ he admits, ‘but I am by no means interested in that at all. My personal space is very minimal.’
During our January meeting in Washington D.C., just before a major snowstorm hit the East Coast, Cave, nearing 67, presented himself as anything but an unconventional artist. His neatly trimmed gray hair and beard, combined with his stylish black sportswear and red-and-white high-tops from the Japanese brand Bathing Ape, offered a glimpse into his sophisticated understanding of pop culture. For decades, Cave has been a respected figure, teaching at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
An accompanying image shows the artist, Nick Cave, within his ‘Mammoth’ exhibition at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Surrounded by a bounty of beads, he acknowledges that his timely show may well face resistance.
From the entrance of ‘Mammoth,’ a tusk-topped lifeguard chair stands prominently in the distance. Cave’s artistic approach prioritizes challenging conventional understanding, reflecting modern art’s tradition of deconstructing meaning rather than presenting clear narratives.
Within the art community, Cave is recognized as a significant figure. His renowned ‘Soundsuits’ — dynamic, wearable sculptures — have graced exhibitions worldwide, with major retrospectives held at prestigious institutions like the Guggenheim Museum, Boston’s Institute of Contemporary Art, and the Denver Art Museum. For his latest endeavor, Cave delved deep into his personal history, drawing inspiration from his family’s rich tradition of ‘makers, musicians, poets, singers, craftsmen, woodworkers, and quilters.’ His childhood summers on his grandparents’ Missouri farm, filled with the cherished crafts of his grandmother and her relatives, such as faux fruits and beaded trivets, were particularly influential. Sarah Newman, SAAM’s curator of contemporary art, emphasizes the crucial role of Cave’s personal history in ‘Mammoth,’ stating that the exhibition ‘is about memory, and creativity and the process of memory, and how memory affects our lives.’ Yet, these deeply personal memories, cloaked in Cave’s signature dazzle, carry broader, more urgent implications. Newman’s catalog essay notes ‘a pervasive fear’ woven into the show, ‘without ever surfacing directly.’
Multiple close-up images reveal intricate details of the crafts and mementos Cave has gathered. He explains, ‘I come from a family of makers, musicians, poets, singers, craftsmen, woodworkers, quilters, and that was something that I wanted to focus on.’
Newman further elaborates that ‘Mammoth’ addresses ‘the current ecological crisis as part of a broader reckoning with how we engage with the land and our shared history.’ She links this to Cave’s ‘Soundsuits,’ which first brought him widespread recognition decades ago. These earlier works, created in response to the 1991 Rodney King beating, explored Cave’s ‘vulnerability as a Black man in America’ – a theme subtly echoed in ‘Mammoth.’ Art historian Cherise Smith, in her essay, frames ‘Mammoth’ as a form of ‘institutional critique,’ highlighting how the exhibit’s jumbled objects both reflect and subvert the traditional categorization of museum collections and, by extension, the people they classify. Intriguingly, the illuminated white plastic platform holding Cave’s objects resembles a light table an anthropologist—a Smithsonian anthropologist—might use to examine artifacts.
The Smithsonian American Art Museum (SAAM) showcases considerable bravery by presenting such a critical exhibition, especially as its parent institution faces intense scrutiny from the Trump administration, which has demanded records and wall texts for vetting ‘improper ideology.’ One can’t help but wonder how the administration might react to a Smithsonian exhibit by a Black gay artist, as described by Newman, ‘contending with issues of race, identity, and the changing climate.’ This comes at a time when mentions of climate change are being removed from national parks, and discussions of slavery have vanished from displays about historical figures like George Washington in the Parks Service.
A video shows Nick Cave alongside one of his striking sculptures: a lifeguard chair adorned with wild tusks, powerfully evoking the head of a mammoth.
Cave himself anticipated potential backlash in Washington’s political climate. ‘I thought about it for a minute,’ he recounted, ‘but then I’m like, I’ve got to proceed forward. That will come — if it comes — and I will then address it.’ In an official statement, SAAM affirmed that ‘there has been no outside influence on ‘Mammoth.’ The exhibition is being presented as it was conceived by the artist in concert with SAAM’s curatorial team.’ However, it’s worth noting that the exhibition’s public wall texts offer a softened description, omitting direct references to climate change, race, or critique — themes prominently discussed in the exhibition catalog. Curator Sarah Newman, when speaking personally, prefers to distance the project from overt political interpretations, stating, ‘I’m trying not to think about it in terms of the larger politics, because I just don’t think that that is what Nick is thinking about.’ Despite her perspective, and Cave’s own diverse engagements (he proudly mentioned attending a ‘No Kings’ march), his art undeniably sparks profound political reflections for both the curator and the audience. As a critic, I’ve often wondered if the sheer brilliance of Cave’s shimmering creations might overshadow their deeper meaning. Yet, ‘Mammoth’ possesses a compelling darkness that imbues it with significant weight.
More close-up images provide details from the tall assemblages that Cave affectionately calls ‘antennas.’ Also visible are sequined slippers and badminton racquets resting on Cave’s giant light table. An art historian describes ‘Mammoth’ as a powerful ‘institutional critique’ that sheds light on the intricacies of our museum-industrial complex.
What truly captivates about Cave’s central table is the deliberate disarray of its objects. Far from a nostalgic narrative of cherished farm memories, their arrangement resists conventional storytelling, mirroring Cave’s own fragmented thoughts on the project. He describes his internal process as a ‘traffic circle’ of ideas: ‘I don’t know anything, I don’t think — or do I? — I don’t know anything, and yet I know I know it.’ This philosophical uncertainty brings to mind the disjointed narratives of Samuel Beckett’s Cold War plays or modernist literature following World War I. One could term Cave’s creations ‘stream of consciousness sculpture,’ prioritizing art’s ability to deconstruct meaning, often in response to profound societal crises, over clear communication. Among the towering sculptures emerging from the table, one combines a bicycle frame, an old telephone, glove molds, and a TV antenna. This evokes the Dadaist assemblages of artists like Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven, who reacted to the horrors of WWI, or Jean Tinguely’s self-destructing machines in the shadow of atomic threats. Adding another layer of complexity is ‘Palimpsest (Promised Land),’ a colossal mural on a nearby wall, created by Cave’s life-partner, designer Bob Faust. Cave states its imagery is rooted in his childhood farm in Missouri, specifically ‘the acres of land that I was able to have access to as a young kid.’
The intricate wall installation, ‘Palimpsest (Promised Land),’ features a complex spiderweb of netting and rods, intentionally obscuring the underlying mural created by Nick Cave’s partner, Bob Faust.
Yet, during the exhibition, very little of this mural is actually visible. When we met, Faust, dressed in gray overalls, was meticulously adding the final touches to an intricate overlay of pony beads, shoestrings, netting, and colored rods that deliberately concealed his own artwork. This peculiar, unexplained act of effacement lends a powerful poignancy to ‘Mammoth,’ transcending its initial glittering appearance. Cave revealed that the exhibition’s title originally simply described the massive scale of his project. However, contemplating the extinct ‘mammoth’ as a noun led him to incorporate these tragic beasts. Above the enormous table at SAAM, five lifeguard chairs stand, each crowned with a whimsical, tusked sculpture resembling a mammoth’s head. These figures act as silent sentinels, metaphorically watching humanity’s current impact on the planet, both ‘surveilling’ and ‘alarming — signaling us,’ as Cave describes with characteristic paradox. In an adjacent gallery, the extinct creatures are brought to life through projections of colossal mammoth puppets traversing a fantastical landscape. On October 24, these mammoths will be animated by performers in a procession through SAAM, with the exhibition running until January 3, 2027. Cave even hinted at a potential act of protest should the current cultural politics interfere with his exhibition: ‘If there was any tampering with my exhibition, I would love to come and spray paint everything black’ — a gesture he likens to dressing his entire project in mourning. ‘All the objects on the table — everything would be just sprayed black. So that may have to happen, yet. And I’m all about it.’
Nick Cave stands with one of his striking mammoth-inspired sculptures, part of his ‘Mammoth’ project at SAAM.