june 17, 2008
the chicago museum of contemporary art, which i'd never been to before, has free admission on tuesdays, so i thought i'd head over.
contemporary art, at least to me, can feel so arbitrary. looking at something sometimes, and i think really? this is art?
once at the guggenheim museum in bilbao, spain, i entered a very large room with only a few pieces scattered within it. and as i perused and looked around, i was scolded in spanish by a museum staff member for stepping too close to an exhibit. the piece i had stepped too close to, to my ignorant eyes, was just a pile of carpet padding that i mistook for debris the museum had left after some construction. nope, it was art. and it's the kind of art that makes me want to slap somebody.
it's possible, i suppose, that i did not see the particular nuances of the shape of the pile that the artist undoubtedly labored over, nor could i appreciate the color chosen by the artist for the carpet padding, the significance of the number of padding strips used, and other details. and i obviously missed the artistic meaning of carpet padding on the museum floor to begin with.
i am thankful, though, that i do not recall one of those helpful museum placards stating the name and artist, the materials, and often a paragraph of text to place the piece in context. that paragraph of text is a huge cop out. "huh, you don't quite get my carpet padding art? well, here's an explanation." as a writer, you strive your best to use the words you mean to use. and you have all the time in the world to finagle with them, tweak them, rewrite them, but i don't get to sit on the couch next to you while you read and say, "oh yeah, in that chapter you just read, what i really meant to convey was this, so please think of it in those terms."
the thing i think i realized after today's trip is that i need the art to be "smarter than me." what i mean by this is that art has to have at least one of the following:
- it has to be something i couldn't have thought of
(if truly pressed, or bored, i could think of heaping carpet padding into a pile)
- it has to have been created using knowledge and skill that i don't posses
(again, i could have found, or bought, or ripped from the floor plenty of carpet padding)
the current large exhibit at the chicago mca is of work by jeff koons. i'm not all that familiar with him or his art, but for the most part i was quite impressed. i didn't like everything (like the blown up advertisements for frangelico and gordon's gin) but there was a large porcelain sculpture of michael jackson and bubbles, a huge cracked egg painted glossy silver on the inside and glossy purple on the outside so perfect that i have no idea how it was made, and inflatable water toys somehow pierced by ladders or chain link fences that somehow stayed inflated. i really liked this last set of pieces (though i don't know if they were filled with air - you can't touch anything so i don't know if they were full of water or gel or something else to give the same appearance).
maybe i should amend my "smarter than me" guideline, because what i think i mean is that it's almost like magic. it's just this rush to see these things like this. to turn a corner and be confronted by something that the brain cannot process. not that there's deception, but to simply and totally be awed by both the capacity of someone else's imagination and their ability to manifest that imagination into the world.
contemporary art, at least to me, can feel so arbitrary. looking at something sometimes, and i think really? this is art?
once at the guggenheim museum in bilbao, spain, i entered a very large room with only a few pieces scattered within it. and as i perused and looked around, i was scolded in spanish by a museum staff member for stepping too close to an exhibit. the piece i had stepped too close to, to my ignorant eyes, was just a pile of carpet padding that i mistook for debris the museum had left after some construction. nope, it was art. and it's the kind of art that makes me want to slap somebody.
it's possible, i suppose, that i did not see the particular nuances of the shape of the pile that the artist undoubtedly labored over, nor could i appreciate the color chosen by the artist for the carpet padding, the significance of the number of padding strips used, and other details. and i obviously missed the artistic meaning of carpet padding on the museum floor to begin with.
i am thankful, though, that i do not recall one of those helpful museum placards stating the name and artist, the materials, and often a paragraph of text to place the piece in context. that paragraph of text is a huge cop out. "huh, you don't quite get my carpet padding art? well, here's an explanation." as a writer, you strive your best to use the words you mean to use. and you have all the time in the world to finagle with them, tweak them, rewrite them, but i don't get to sit on the couch next to you while you read and say, "oh yeah, in that chapter you just read, what i really meant to convey was this, so please think of it in those terms."
the thing i think i realized after today's trip is that i need the art to be "smarter than me." what i mean by this is that art has to have at least one of the following:
- it has to be something i couldn't have thought of
(if truly pressed, or bored, i could think of heaping carpet padding into a pile)
- it has to have been created using knowledge and skill that i don't posses
(again, i could have found, or bought, or ripped from the floor plenty of carpet padding)
the current large exhibit at the chicago mca is of work by jeff koons. i'm not all that familiar with him or his art, but for the most part i was quite impressed. i didn't like everything (like the blown up advertisements for frangelico and gordon's gin) but there was a large porcelain sculpture of michael jackson and bubbles, a huge cracked egg painted glossy silver on the inside and glossy purple on the outside so perfect that i have no idea how it was made, and inflatable water toys somehow pierced by ladders or chain link fences that somehow stayed inflated. i really liked this last set of pieces (though i don't know if they were filled with air - you can't touch anything so i don't know if they were full of water or gel or something else to give the same appearance).
maybe i should amend my "smarter than me" guideline, because what i think i mean is that it's almost like magic. it's just this rush to see these things like this. to turn a corner and be confronted by something that the brain cannot process. not that there's deception, but to simply and totally be awed by both the capacity of someone else's imagination and their ability to manifest that imagination into the world.