Cj Hendry’s Public Pool delights some and confounds others, as it celebrates Las Vegas pool party culture while ignoring serious realities of PVC manufacturing, drought, and the wealth divide.
Cj Hendry: Public Pool
April 5 – 7, 2024
Sandy Valley Ranch, Sandy Valley, Nevada
During three short days, from April 5-7, 2024, Cj Hendry presented Public Pool, a temporary installation of impossibilities and dichotomies. I’ll willingly admit that I’ve been fan-girling her art for several years. Hendry’s head-scratchingly real pencil drawings of consumer goods evoke an unexpected appreciation for subjects that we certainly do not usually associate with fine (and expensive) art. Yet, when we see items such as designer purses, plastic shopping bags, balloons, or pool floaties through her eyes, we may begin to appreciate not only their form and function, but also the impermanent nature of the plastics they are often made of.
Speaking of plastics, it’s impossible to ignore the amount of oil-based materials involved in manufacturing Public Pool and its accompanying merchandise. In an era of shame-driven recycling of single-use plastics, it would be informational to learn more about the artist’s choice to use such an abundance of PVC and plastics.
Did Hendry consider the immense carbon footprint of PVC production? Did she research the deadly chemicals (mercury, PFAS, asbestos, lead, cadmium) necessary for both its creation and its re-use? Did she look at the history of countries such as China where, in at least one province, forced labor is used to manufacture 10% of the world’s PVC?
As an artist myself, I don’t necessarily think creators are required to view petroleum-based materials as wholly taboo (consider oil paints, enamels, spray paint, latex … the list is long), but I do hope we stay informed as to the global impact of such toxic materials and strive to make responsible choices when we can. Despite this, I too succumbed to the uncomfortable state of FOMO consumerism and purchased everything I could at Hendry’s candy-counter-looking merch table, against my better judgment.
I was hoping that Public Pool will find a new installation home, thereby skirting the offending single-use descriptor. However, news sources report that Hendry is planning on repurposing Public Pool into furniture. Sadly, repurposing does not mitigate a problematic carbon footprint, as it also uses an immense amount of energy (not to mention, again, the toxic chemicals involved). Fun fact: most PVC ends up in landfills or incinerators. Oh, and burning PVC releases phosgene (a lethal gas/chemical weapon used in WWI) and hydrochloric acid (corrosive to lungs).
I chuckled that Hendry chose Sandy Valley, Nevada for this installation. I love the desert; heck, I live here! But Sandy Valley, while technically a desert landscape, is also known for growing sod and alfalfa, plants that rely on a lot of water to grow. While sod sells well in Las Vegas to golf courses and high-end properties, the average person is reminded (with each water bill) that green lawns are not what our resources can support. Even Clark County, Nevada ordinances were changed to limit the size of new residential pools. At nearly 200 feet long, maybe 100 feet wide, and three feet tall, Public Pool also relies on well over 300,000 gallons of water to be effective, both visually and for interaction. To me, Hendry’s installation subversively alludes to how major properties use water in Las Vegas to create another FOMO experience: Casino Pool Culture.
This subversion cannot help but remind me of the challenges of climate change and how drought continues to seriously affect not only the Southwest, but the rest of the world. Drought means our aquifers aren’t replenished as quickly, leading to the irrevocable depletion of water sources, such as wells, streams, rivers, and lakes. With these things in mind, Public Pool becomes some sort of surreal influencer culture experience that turns a blind eye to those whose very existence is threatened by drought.
Considering all of the “puff pieces” written about the installation, I would have certainly appreciated learning whether Hendry had given any additional thought to the full narrative of this particular work, or whether its concept was as shallow as the waters that filled it.
Nancy Good is a member of Southwest Contemporary‘s Community Editorial Advisory Board.
