exhibit excursion . . . modern "art"
Lesson for the day: modern art is not for the science-minded. I think we needed a right-brained person to sooth us, prevent us from the near constant rotation of our eyes.
SD and I went to the Whitney, at 1pm on Wed. It was packed. Apparently the new biennial exhibits were "released" last weekend and all the artsy folk wanted to catch a first glimpse of "Day for Night" and "Down by Law" exhibits.
We started with the permanent collection on the 5th floor and worked our way down. The top floor had a lot of Hopper's work and a couple of O'Keefe's work. But people were gathered around this big white rectangle, talking about it, so we went over to take a look. It was white muslin and looked like there was light streaming in from behind it. A few people were discussing the illusion of depth that this light created. When we searched for the little box that tells you what you are looking at, there wasnt one. hmmm. turns out we were all looking at a window that had been covered up. great.
Downstairs there was a violence exhibit that had more than a few Bush-mocking pieces. I understand this is art. I understand that people dont like the President, but it seemed, at least one piece (a short film) , was created so that NYers would laugh at the people in Texas who were tickled to meet Bush. I guess I feel like while it is OK to laugh at Bush himself, the poor waitress on the other side of the country who knows he preferes onion rings to fries doesnt deserve the howls she was getting in the museum.
Further on there was, well, a lot of weird shit (one piece was a rock with different colors of gum all over it on a base of wood in which was carved "eat shit and die"). and a lot of porn. actually, a ridiculous amount of porn . . . films, slides, photos. I probably shouldnt call it porn if its in a museum but a lot of naked people with other naked people.
There was also a tall lanky fellow with messy hair and an ill-fitting suit strutting around with a blow horn, shouting out something or other about a designer in the room every few minutes. He walked alone, and seemed to descend the stairs with us. We couldnt decide if he might be an instillation himself, or just another NY eccentric.
*photograph: Marilyn Minter: Stepping Up
posted by gordian knot @ Thursday, March 09, 2006
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