I wish someone had insisted earlier
that I go to the galleries in New York. Maybe they did. Maybe the
lessons I learn on my own are the ones that stick. I feel like my
perspective on art charged dramatically each hour this past weekend.
I started at the Guggenheim, somewhere I've been desiring to go for a
while now. I wish I could have seen the Francesca Woodman show.
Christopher Wool is currently up. His work intrigued me but did not
speak to my own work in any direct way. He created large, non
objective screen prints and paintings. I traveled with a friend who
frequented the Guggenheim in the past, and she suggested to start at
the top. I'm glad we did. His latest work is enormous, easily 15 or
more feet tall, on canvas, and standing in front of one gives a
strong somewhat physiological experience. One in particular utilized Benday dots and once I looked away, the dots still lingered in my
vision, and projected onto the other works for several minutes. Many
of the shapes read like a Rorschach in blot test. The last image
read “You Make Me” in large, rough stenciled letters. Ultimately,
Wool seems to take the easy way out by making interpretation the
viewer's responsibility. Perhaps that's harsh. The ink blot shapes do
already indicate the phycological nature of the work, and the idea of
a “right answer” has long been dismissed.
After The Guggenheim, we ventured to
Chelsea. I knew galleries were in that area, as well as the High
Line, a path made on former train tracks above street level. The High
Line has beautiful, an a refreshing break from the city, though
somewhat crowded. I enjoyed the juxtaposition of nature and urban.
Then we ventured to the galleries.
I felt as if I had been searching for
these galleries my whole life. I'm not even sure I scratched the
surface this trip, but I stayed until my feet threatened to fall off
and it was exhilarating. We walked on West 22nd St and
were blow away. There was such vibrance and life in the art. It was
such a different experience from the stuffiness of museums.
Initially, we started on that street because I saw a sign for Robert
Serra, a sculptor I've research. Everything felt fresh. It reminded
me of the first time I had feta in Greece, and have never been able
to eat the american version again. Seeing some of the work seemed to
prove to me I'm on the right track. I'm not there yet, but I'm
getting there. I don't need to be scared.
Sunday, we went to Dia:Beacon in Beacon,
NY. It is probably one of the most beautiful spaces I've ever been
in, and continued to expand my understanding of art. It is lit with
primarily natural light, which alone made it just breathtaking. Each
piece of art seemed so ideally displayed and presented. Helpful
guides were provided on each artist, and the write ups were
excellent: they provided wonderful context for the work without being
heavy-handed. The work itself had such amazing presence. Most of it
could be walked around and through. I felt I could really engage each
piece, get to know it, and respond to it. The work was primarily
Modernist, which I feel makes it idealistic, but in this space, I
could really embrace that ideal.
