The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley at CHART Gallery asks if we still want to play

Game Transfer Phenomena, installation view. © the Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley, Courtesy CHART Gallery.

By PHIL ZHENG CAI February 8, 2025

Kids grow. Art develops. Growths and developments are constantly celebrated with positive connotations. But under the guise of commemorating progress, what we actually desire might be a declaration of our presence in it, positive or negative.

Art doesn’t degenerate and kids don’t ungrow. Reversing an adult into a child is physically impossible whereas for a seasoned contemporary artist to work in the fashion of Indigenous Art would be loathsome. Growth is a one-way tunnel. As soon as we step on the slides at our childhood community parks, we inevitably land in the cubicles of metropolitan office buildings. The kindergarten sketchbook that we cherished was societally executed with its possibility of anchoring a Guggenheim retrospective seventy years later in mind.

Even though we don’t go back, we must peek in hindsight to inspect the process of growth, both in regards to contemporary art and human history in general, epistemologically, checking into all the neutral or negative progressions that we packaged as “developments.” The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley, sound artist Jordan Dykstra, and curator Alex Feim do so masterfully with their recently-opened exhibition Game Transfer Phenomena at the lower level of CHART Gallery in New York. Simultaneously naive and sophisticated, the artist traverses the growing pains of contemporary art with his seven modular sculptures. Individually, they are mute mockeries of self-righteousness in the contemporary art world. As a whole, they are a cry for true connectivities over worldly-driven ones that are omnipresent under the banner of reason. To infiltrate a system, one ought to have a full understanding by becoming part of it.

The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley, S, 2023. Pine, metal and rubber hardware, SolidSurface, epoxy resin, ethafoam, felt. 16 3/4 x 23 x 15 inches. © the Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley, Courtesy CHART Gallery.

The exhibition consists of seven sculptures, made after the basic Tetromino shapes in Tetris: Z, I, J, S, O, T, and L. Sculpturally, The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley poignantly transformed the game of Tetris into a different game of chance and modularity: The “Z” crate is closed, it can potentially host four modules, but we don’t know. The “I” crate is open with four modules. The “J” crate is open but empty. The “S” crate is open with four modules. The “O” crate is open with four modules. The “T” crate is open but empty. The “L” crate is closed, it can potentially host four modules, but we don’t know.

When we were little, things combined easily. As kids playing Tetris, we shoved everything to the bottom because sooner or later all troubles disappeared. As we grew up, a smarter strategy would be introduced: leaving an empty line unoccupied so that when the “I” appears, it would go seamlessly into that preemptively reserved lane to clear four lines at once. Further down the road, we would learn that the actual term for this behavior is “delayed gratification” which is supposedly one of the building blocks of a civilized society. Or if we continue our literacy in art and psychoanalytical theory, the act of inserting into a vacated lane might have something to do with castration anxiety. In short, the invention of meanings and ramifications is a symbol of wisdom. The dissection of anything, a concept, a module, a game was blessed with a good cause.

With this group of sculptures, The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley argues for the neutrality of meaning dissection: what do we gain if we turn a kid’s game of organization into an adult’s game of understanding each piece involved and every strategy fathomable? Is it more fun or are we simply inventing complications? Take the Z-S and J-L relationship for example. As kids, we didn’t realize these were different pieces: Z and S share the exact openness, and so do J and L. The artist playfully, in an adult way, highlights the difference between these otherwise identical pieces by creating Schrodinger's Tetris pieces. Does a closed crate hint at the same content as one that is open and exteriorly identical? Is an empty crate mentally fillable if a comparable one is present nearby as a guide? But ultimately, how important is it to make up new meanings, terms, or even theories for these minute details, in both game-playing and art-making? The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley’s treatment is visually subtle and conceptually extreme, rendering nostalgia to a utopia that has been outgrown.

The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley, T (installation view), 2023. Pine, metal and rubber hardware, ethafoam, felt. 16 3/4 x 23 x 15 inches. © the Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley, Courtesy CHART Gallery.

All seven sculptures had “Fragile,” “Keep Upright,” and “Open This Side” markings aggressively painted over all sides of the crates, giving instructions and orientations. However, Tetris is supposed to be a disorienting game, at least for kids, because all pieces are meant to be spun and tossed around freely. Replacing “cans” with “don’ts,” the artist exposes the cruelty of social disciplines and questions their necessity. When we were little, orientation didn’t matter.

The five open crates generate five lids, all of which are placed near their corresponding bodies which they once covered. They were then leaned onto either a wall or a pillar by the artist and the curator, creating a different dimension as a group. Topologically, this new vertical landscape negates the legitimacy of any aforementioned rules and limitations. What is ironic is that these “rebels” still follow their own set of rules: they lean at a uniform angle, modularly removed from their original crate, and still fit harmoniously with the overall visual system of the installation.

Kids play the game whereas adults play with its rules. Representing the latter comes at the cost of no free play.

The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley, L, 2023. Pine, metal and rubber hardware, SolidSurface, epoxy resin, ethafoam, felt. 16 3/4 x 23 x 15 inches. © the Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley, Courtesy CHART Gallery.

Adults calculate kisses, contemplating their consequences, power balances, and societal meanings. Kids do so freely only as a desire to merge. Friends were made by a sheer braveness to interact, notwithstanding class, ethnicity, gender, or any instructions to handle themselves with care. When we were little, a friend was simply an echo that responded.

In contrast to the stationary sculptures that are grounded to the gallery floor and column, the audio element of the exhibition is a more fluid and responsive game played. Created by composer and sound artist Jordan Dykstra, a soundtrack was installed in the form of two echoing speakers on the opposite ends of the room, emitting knocking sounds in rhythms that are monological at times and conversational at others. If The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley deliberately cancels all feedback outputs by hammering the seven thoughtful sculptures one by one into the void of the gallery space, deprived of one another, Dykstra’s soundtrack provides the only cue for a potential meet-up. The physical installation meticulously done by the artist and the curator maximizes the potentiality between the seven pieces by pinning everyone down with rules, forces, and standards. Contrarily, in the looping soundtrack, the seven pieces cheerily meet, greet, embrace, and kiss all day long. Emancipation of visual art, hovering over all rules, is rendered possible in an invisible domain.

Game Transfer Phenomena, installation view. © the Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley, Courtesy CHART Gallery. 

When we were little, the “art” predated the “world.” Before we learned about the actual definition of art, everything was art. It was an impetus to create without knowing what we created. But even with all the vocabulary and descriptives from the adult world, can we fully interpret what each creation is? The art that we make after attending art schools and studying art history either adheres to the classic definition of art, claims to stretch the boundaries of art whilst staying aware of the boundaries that we base our arguments on, or hides away in homogeneity among all comparable artworks that self-identify as “contemporary art.”

Considering crates as the most common hold-of-value and proof-of-value for art, The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley’s self-deprecating sculptures strip away all egos and challenge the commercialization of art-making in the process of becoming part of it. The artist wrote in the press release: Equitably distributing resources is how you win, while hoarding — perhaps squirreling things away invisibly at freeports around the world — is how you lose.

Curiously, when I spoke with the representative of The Estate of Joshua Caleb Weibley (who is actually the living artist himself) on the choice of being officially referred to as “The Estate," he claimed that this offered a much clearer perception of the practice and seems to be the only way that empowers him to show artworks bravely in public. After seeing Game Transfer Phenomena, I realized that “The Estate” was perhaps a pseudonym for adulthood, self-endowed to flip active awareness into a passive uprising. We conform, but we still want to play. WM