The Whitney and couch art rebellion

Piotr Uklanski- The Year we made contact -2010

Ever meet a painting that makes your knees weak? If so, prepare to stumble into the Whitney.

After the slightly traumatic experience of yogurt lids and a beached whale of a museum I felt a little bit teased, used and disappointed (by the museum and my date ironically). Luckily I was in New York city and instead of chocolate I had really good... mind boggling...wait for it....ART!

I remember telling my MOMA buddy that I was expecting something else, to which he replies "this is modern art, I don't know why you expected anything different". When I make it to the Whitney somehow I can describe exactly what I was looking for. I'm looking for the rich variations in Rauschenberg and the ethereal staining of Rothko next to that most perfect line of Newman as soon as I open the elevator to the top floor (the Whitney was mostly closed because the biennial wasn't up yet the first time i graced the doors) there they are. That was quite an experience. Walking around made my pulse quicken and I didn't know whether I wanted to sit and stare at one painting forever or meander into every corner so I don't miss a single surprise! Like any good first date the Whitney teased me with so little open but made me desperate and anxious to meet with them yet again.

Oh and I was rewarded. The name even sends chills down my spine. This piece makes me want to throw everything out of my living room and create a shrine for it. This is art that is so good even if you COULD fit your sofa and that painting in it you would throw out the sofa before you ever thought about touching this piece. This is one of the pieces that makes you want to wander in with your sketchbook, get lost in it for hours on end and walk out in a dreary haze from trying to memorize every single passage in this piece. Not only is it tactile, but sensual, the hemp hangs like dripping paint. All at once it is organic, romantic and rich with vivid passages and lavish detail. The Year We Made Contact longs me to ask the Whitney if they accept MasterCard, Amex or would consider letting me taking out a private loan so I could have this piece all to myself.

While I decided to talk about my favorite piece at the Whitney, I urge you to pick your own because unlike the dating scene, this place keeps you A) coming back for more B) There are definitely a lot of sexy pieces, with the honesty, integrity and passion that will not leave you disappointed.

In other news today I hit up Blick Spin The Wheel Wednesdays. There's just something about spinning a wheel and getting something art related as a prize that makes it totally worth heading down there. Also I am hitting up Open Studios in Cambridge on Sunday to see my professor and favorite crazy Jamaican Man/ artistic guru Kofi Kayiga's work. His work is fantabulous! I'll talk about that next week!

how could i forget....

THE YOGURT.... The jury MAY be out on the whale, but am I really wasting my time to look at some clear Dannon yogurt tops on the wall? Some with the price tag for "variation".

Mr Orozco, what do I even SAY to modern artist's anymore?
Tune in next time when my face lights up and I remind myself of the visual feast that was the Whitney Biennial <3

Orozco @ the Moma

A few months ago I decided to check out the MOMA in NYC. I was completely convinced it would be the Mecca of all I consider to be amazing art. When I left I was just glad it was Target Free Fridays. Now before everyone goes screaming at me telling me I have no appreciation for modern art I must say that that is simply NOT the case. I understand that art is not necessarily a painting (even though I am partial to think that it is), and maybe I am partial to seeing an artist's hand in the work (think rauschenberg, Hesse, De Kooning). There is something about a stiff suit hanging on a wall that just refuses to grab my attention.
So when I saw that Gabriel Orozco retrospective at the MOMA i got a reaction other than exasperated sigh. The whale, oh the whale. The inscription wrote that when he saw the space he immediately thought of a giant whale skeleton (I mean doesn't everyone?). Any artist can relate to that. It felt like Damien Hirst, but instead of preserving, digging up the remains and then drawing all over it. I feel bad for all these animals who are being dug up and doodled all over to be called "art". I feel like if I saw this around the same time I started looking at Damien Hirst I would have dug it. I mean the scale is incredible and being able to look at a whale skeleton from all these angles at different places in the museum is pretty sweet. The shadows are also great and it's a nice use of space. However all I can take from it is another conceptual modernist with a lot of money to throw around trying to wow us with his "bling" art.

Recently I was looking in Art News and there the whale rears it's head at me again and as I read I see an article on this piece and Orozco says "I want to disappoint the expectations of someone who wants to be amazed" . That hit a chord with me because I feel like that's exactly what he did. I feel like it's amazing in a sense, but I also am completely disappointed at the same time.
I can't decide and this whale has been following me around for two months now. When I hear Orozco talk about though, it almost does make sense. However, rich guys playing with money stopped being cool when Damien Hirst made the skull with diamonds on it and then invested in his own piece of work. This guy sounds like he was a lot cooler in 1993.