An exercise in Biennial belt tightening, the Whitney’s “2010” isn’t quite the visual juggernaut of years past. Pared down to fifty-five artists seeking to convey the anxiety and hope of the last two years, the exhibition is an understated paean to the present. On the modest roster is Vietnamese-born Tam Tran, a 23-year-old photographer whose contribution to a Memphis group exhibition first caught the eye of associate curator Carrion-Murayari. Tran, whose use of stark color and shadow recalls William Eggleston’s saturated depictions of the region, is quirky and disarming in her spontaneity and collaborative approach. In photographing her nephew for the Raising Hell series chosen for the show, the artist remarked, “If I see something I liked I would yell, ‘HOLD!’ and immediately push the shutter button before the moment was gone.” Often her work involves costuming or formal manipulation to emphasize ambiguous roles and narratives. Pool halls, mini marts, backyards, and her body act as canvases for studies in shifting identity and dichotomy. In a self-portrait cycle, for example, the artist transmogrifies from diminutive doll to powerful protagonist. While throughout Raising Hell the artist’s nephew wields a stick against a palpable yet invisible foe in alternating poses of victory and surrender. Rich in metaphorical content, the photograph Battle Cry from this series appeared prominently in media outlets covering the Biennial. “From the stance of an adult, the boy warrior is living out an instance of our childhood that we’ve lost,” Tran comments. It is a layered perspective on innocence, articulating fear and reassurance, force and restraint.