Modern Art

I consider myself a relatively art savvy person. Not a connoisseur per se, but I know enough about art, studied the great masters and have seen my fair share of the world's most impressive (and even lesser known) art museums. I'm also pretty open minded about most things, art included. I can appreciate works from all genres and all eras. I love that in London most museums are free (well, free as in I bought my tickets, and possibly yours, with my taxes :), so you can pop into any museum and spend an hour or two without feeling obligated to stay an entire day.



So while near St. Paul's a few weeks ago I popped into Tate Modern (pictured above), one of two Tate galleries in London. It is housed in a former power station, which I think is so perfectly suited for a museum, but especially a modern art museum. The large, industrial, boxy space really is the perfect home for the modern arts. Plus I also love it when old, defunct buildings are resurrected to not only preserve the history of the structure, but also to serve a new purpose. Win win. And poetically the power station is really a work of modern art itself.

There is an amazing collection in the permanent galleries as well as a steady flow of rotating temporary exhibits. Some are amazing, intriguing and even inspiring, but others are a brow-furrowing, head-scratching, eye-rolling experience. And on this last visit I found myself experiencing a whole range of reactions. On the whole this visit left a tired brow, a sore head and dizzy eyes.
I can certainly appreciate this . . .



And this is brilliant . . .



This is interesting . . .



Something I like about this. It's not amazing and I'm sort of on the fence about its position here, but I like it so I'm open to it . . .



And to be fair I could allocate much more of this post to more noteworthy works as these, and I wouldn't discourage a visit here. However, I find myself so astonished as to why some of this other stuff is not only considered "art," but that it's also housed in London's Tate Modern, the single most-visited modern art museum in the world. Astonished! So along with all the brow-furrowing, head-scratching and eye-rolling I found myself repeating over and over . . . "Really, this is art?"


Hmmm? A bunch of heating ducts hanging from a ceiling? I guess this could be someone's idea of a beautiful sculpture, but I'm failing to see anything beyond a suspended heap of twisted metal, nor do I see the deep message contained within. What does this say to me? Trip (back) to the junkyard.


Well, what do we have here? A bunch of rocks mounted in boxes with wire rods. Hmmm, maybe if I repeat it again . . . a bunch of rocks mounted in boxes with wire rods. Nope still don't get it.


"Please do not cross the line" or you will mess up our giant tinker toys occupying a large space in the most visited modern art museum in the world.


Oh boy, things just get even more ridiculous. This "piece" is called "untitled." Obviously, because what else do you entitle a mess of black whatevers slumped against a wall? The description beside this piece tells us the artist "began to purchase rectangular sheets of industrial felt and cut into them with a series of straight lines. When suspended, the strips of felt would tumble from their own weight. Morris wanted to question the fixed geometric shapes of Minimalist sculpture and the way Minimalism imposed order on materials. As he wrote in his essay ‘Anti-Form’, the alternative was to let materials determine their own shape. This meant relinquishing control of the final appearance: each time this work is displayed, its precise arrangement will change." Wow, so basically this is much like unfolded laundry? Left "tumble[d] from their own weight" it's a giant heap of messy clothes? So when my kids don't want to tidy their rooms they're really saying they're "let[ting] materials determine their own shape . . . relinquishing control of the final appearance?" That is seriously a powerful mess of black whatevers slumped against the wall.


What have we here? A giant grey blob in a corner (cousin to the mess of black whatevers above; do you see the family resemblance?). Moving stuff. The plaque in the museum notes "The bottom and two flat sides are effectively a cast of the floor and walls, while the slumps on the front result from the unpredictable behaviour of waves of slowly solidifying foam." Get out?! Pretty much just like the glue bottle left tipped over with the lid loose I found on the desk the other day. Even with open corners to fill in this museum, I just don't get how this gets a spot. My glue bottle debacle is way cooler than this!


Yep, a giant sheet of latex coated with red painted sawdust. What am I missing here?! Oh, yeah, nothing.


Can you spot the art? No really, it's there! I promise you! Can't you see that beautiful white octagonal paper on the wall? A-mazing! "Tuttle’s Paper Octagonals are paper shapes that he cut from a template and glued to the wall. The orientation of the shape can vary from one installation to the next." Oh, so turning the plain white octagon and changing its orientation from time to time is the key? So next time I go, if the big pointed part facing downward is facing left or right, or even upward it's really going to knock my socks off!? My breath is baited! "Tuttle intends that the octagon should disappear into the wall as much as possible." So it's non-existent art? Now we're talking! "Nonetheless, once noticed, the work becomes strangely present." Yes, as in strangely how on earth is this present on the wall in London's Tate Modern?! "As an object it is ultra-thin, but it still takes up an awkward place between painting and sculpture." Ah yes, definitely that "awkward place" alright! That awkward place between my five year-old's hands and a pair of scissors.

Good grief, this stuff just crosses the line! A total load of rubbish all masquerading as art.