Once we finished touring the special exhibit, we visited the rest of the museum. I've been to MoMA many times, but it's still fun to walk through the 20th century pages of an art history textbook. Above and below are a few of the many iconic paintings in MoMA:
These paintings are so iconic that I don't have to name the artists, because anyone who has taken a basic art history survey course knows every one of these, and others in MoMA, such as Picasso's Three Musicians and Monet's huge Waterlilies.
First time visitors to MoMA are usually amazed at how small these two paintings below are. I mean, Starry Night is somewhat small, but The Persistence of Memory is downright itsy-bitsy!! What a surprise!
But none of the paintings above are the reason for this blog post. It's other stuff that has me befuddled. I mean, I'm all for originality. I never had any trouble teaching kids about Pollock, for example. I could show them his earlier stuff, so they knew he could draw really well, and then, when they ask "why is he so famous for just flinging paint all over the place?" or "why aren't our paintings that we did that way in a museum too?" I could answer by putting it in historical context. He was doing something new, that hadn't been done before, and it was special.
But there's some stuff I am scratching my head over, and I need your help.
Look at these pieces below:
There's this one pictured above, Twin by Robert Ryman. It is all white. Or how about the piece below? If you are able, read the description by clicking on the image to enlarge it.
And then there's this one below, by Bruce Nauman. Wha???
I missed getting the name of the 'artist' for these pieces below.
Or maybe I just didn't care.
Or maybe I just didn't care.
Cosmic Slop "The Berlin Conference" by Rashid Johnson, pictured below, is a large black textural piece in soap and black wax. I can't quite fathom the connection between the canvas and the title.
Below, the piece titled North Chester Ave, by Mary Weatherford, really annoyed me. It doesn't evoke anything to me whatsoever, and then there's the obtrusive cords. It's supposed to depict the color, light, and atmosphere of a landscape. Um, really? Doesn't do it for me.
What's with these hideous lumps of molten looking poo by Lynda Benglis?
Or this, below, by Eva Hesse, made out of paint and string over papier-mache with elastic cord?
And the ultimate hideousness, at least to me, was this noisy and violent video installation, below, situated in the room next to Matisse's glorious Dance of Life. The wailing screeching repeating sound track was persistent and beyond annnoying, especially since you could hear it while viewing the artwork in the adjacent room. I just don't understand. I feel like the joke is on me. I need someone to explain to me WHY this stuff rates being in a top-notch art museum along with paintings by Klimt, and Picasso, and Cezanne, and Gauguin, why I should want to pay good money to see this garbage. I'm not an old fuddy-duddy. I enjoy some contemporary art, which is why a visit to Mass MoCA is one of my favorite museum excursions. But I need to draw a line. I don't understand the value of these pieces I have posted. I want someone to tell me how you explain this stuff to kids.
In elementary art programs, we are teaching the Elements of Art and Principles of Design. We are teaching composition and color theory and creative problem solving and personal expression. We are teaching global, cultural, and historical awareness. We are, honestly, also trying to make attractive art, stuff we can hang in student art shows and that make the parents, administration,and community proud. But how do I make the leap from these basics, to a video of someone chopping off a bloated finger? Or a 1/2" wide canvas hanging on the wall? Or a pile of hastily painted canvases laying in a pile like discarded leftovers, for me to pick up off the museum floor and examine? Or any of the other pieces that I have included below 'OOF'? What is YOUR opinion on these pieces, and how do YOU approach discussing them with students? Please weigh in!!
Thank goodness there was the whimsical Lunar Asparagus by Max Ernst to cheer me up, in the midst of these other pieces, or others like this colorful beauty by Andre Derain, which I will use to complete this post. I'm looking forward to your opinions.