DIA: Serra’s Inner Sanctum

      

Today turned out to be quite a day for introspection, which was not an expectation I typically hold towards viewing minimalist and conceptual art. When I entered the space that housed Richard Serra’s Elliptical Torq installations, I knew I was about to have an experience. Walking a circular labyrinth, around and around till reaching the inner space was incredibly transcendent. I felt all alone, and when I got to the center, the walls seemed to unfold and open up and evoked a feeling of heady vastness…I felt alone, but I was okay with that. I felt at peace. 

   
  This experience was in striking contrast to how I felt when I encountered Serra’s other installation just before–Union of the Torus and the Sphere, 2001. 

  

Trying to navigate around this massive vessel-like object was nearly impossible to manage without pulling your arms close and squeezing around it. The large shape in the small space had the affect of compression– evoking a claustrophobic anxiety. 

I’m glad that DIA had arranged the installation in this way, guiding the viewer into the small space first and the large space last. It served to amplify the feeling of release. For myself , anyway.  

 

DIA Beacon: Aracnophobia

   

The evening before our DIA Beacon excursion, I was a bit anxious. I think I was subconsciously preparing for an encounter–I was having disturbing dreams… 

In my dreams I was wandering through exhibition space from exhibition space with my fellow classmates ( gee, wonder why I was dreaming about that? 😉 and it was getting strange and mazelike, I was turning corner after labyrinthine corner until I was alone wandering through some kind of twisted art museum funhouse. I entered a white room with a group of strangers ( evil museum staff? ) trying to guide me into a dark room that I was pretty sure I didn’t want to see. 

They tried to tempt me anyway: “Your mother is in there,” one of them said. I knew it was a lie. My mother has been dead for 8 months. It angered me that they said it…yet, the room was so dark and on some level I was worried… What if it was true? 

I tried to act tough. I stood up to them. “Have her come out here then!!” I yelled as loud as I could, so loudly I woke myself up, and one of my roommates (sorry JL)! 

When I encountered Louise Bourgois’ ode to her mother, Crouching Spider, (2003), at DIA, I knew what my dream meant. Bourgois said that she was exploring both the nurturing protector and predatory aspects of motherhood. 

I have stopped looking for my mother. Yet, as I was moved to tears in the presence of this larger than life arachnid, I realized I have not forgiven her–I’m still angry, so angry she was ill, angry she didn’t protect me, angry she abandoned me…time after time. I’m also relieved– that she’s gone, and I don’t have to mother her anymore. What kind of daughter does that make me? What kind of mother?  Now, that’s  a scary thought. 

M.A.D: Hidden Worlds

 
After exiting the Museum of Arts and Design, classmate Rebekkah James pointed out this little gem of an installation embedded in the side of the building. Good eyes, Rebekkah! I almost missed it…

   

Dandelion Cluster, 2011 by Patrick Jacobs combines exquisite detail with innovative materials, which include: vellum, cast wax, neoprene, extruded styrene, acrylic gel medium, polyurathane, starch, talc, wood, metal, and CAT HAIR??!! ( for the dandelion fluff, perhaps?) 

It just goes to show…every nook and cranny in the city has a story to tell… You have to keep your eyes open! 😉 

Rad Jewelry at M.A.D

     
I was so enamored with the amazing display of jewelry at the Museum of  Arts and Design. Shown here: Goose Feathered neck pieces with lamb suade and paint by K. Lee Mauel, c. 1988, and blown glass baubled neckpiece by Giorgio Vigna ( b. 1955) titled Gorgoglio, 2002. 

   

  

I also wouldn’t mind sporting some this superior craftsmanship with an LBD at an art reception some time…  This neckpiece and bracelet are made of delicate rolled PAPER!! 

But my favorite discovery was found in the many drawers beneath the displays:  

    
A gold and enamel necklace designed by German artist Hermann Junger c.1980, displayed with graphite conceptual drawings!! (Gifted to MAD in 2004. )

As a jewelry lover, wearer and maker myself ( as a hobby) this was all very exciting to see such unique pieces!!!

I’m dying to know what else is hiding in all those display drawers…! (There were too many to examine all at once!) 

Bruce Nauman in the Dia:Beacon

I was pleasantly surprised to see Bruce Nauman’s Performance Corridor in the exhibition space. I had recently learned about Bruce Nauman and his work in Barbara Miller’s Art and Tech class this past Spring Quarter. Since the quarter ended, I had become attached to his surveillance pieces. Kameron and I spent a good minute running down the corridors and figuring out which cameras were projected onto what televisions. I spent most of the time laughing and flailing my arms. The first long corridor had two televisions at the end which projected me walking toward the televisions, but viewed from the back. It was as if I was walking further away from myself. The next camera was pointed out from the second corridor, and was shown at a television off to the side of the corridor, so I could not fully see myself when in full view of the camera. This gave me a sense of frustration because I felt like I was being watched and at the same time, unable to see myself. It gave me a sense of “dislocation,” as if I was denied to fully understand my surroundings. There was a third television that showed us what a moving camera was seeing, but we could not locate the third camera. We ended up asking one of the gallery attendants where the third camera was – she told us she had wondered the same thing when she first saw the exhibition, and that the third camera was hidden in a secret closet, not accessible to the public. Bruce Nauman, you sneaky man.

Sol LeWitt’s Drawing Series in the Dia:Beacon blew me away at how meticulous and simple they were. His use of graphite and colored graphite blew me away with his use of line work and angles. I felt like I was taken back to my third year high school’s geometry class. I found his simple instructions of “ten thousand straight lines, and ten thousand not straight lines” to be quite humorous. While the description seems simple as that, each of his wall drawings were fully thought out before hand, which he compared to “musical scores.” Everything thought out in the mind of LeWitt was translated onto the wall, as precise as its original conception. I also liked that there were codes for each wall as well, to help the viewer understand the final drawings on the walls. I saw these codes as formulas for the final products.

Strong reaction 

    

   

I had a very strong reaction to the Louise Bourgeois “Spider” sculpture. There has been a lot going on with my own mom across on the other side of the country, and this sculpture hit home hard of what is going on. I desperately want to care for her, but can’t really since of being on opposite sides of the country. To compensate this need, I’ve noticed that I’ve been attempting to care for and look out for the rest of the group on this trip. My own mother instincts have been flaring up a lot recently. I feel like I’m that Spider. And I’m still reeling from that discovery.

It was still good to cry though. 

-Julie M. 

Deadpan

I actually had no reaction to the Noguchi Museum. That might have something to do with the fact that I didn’t really connect that one of our sculptures on campus was done by Noguchi. I just had no reaction to his stuff. There was pretty much only ONE piece that I actuall liked and the only reason why was because it had actual bones.  

 This was the day that I’m really starting to loose interest in NYC. 

-Julie M.