TrickyToro (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} trickytoro) wrote,@ 2008-12-02 20:01:00 |
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LACMA's Broad Contemporary Wing critique
Un-edited slightly excoriating review of the LA County Museum of Art's Eli Broad contemporary wing.
Money Does Not (necessarily) Account for Taste but It Can Sure Buy a Lot of Confection
by Toro Castaño
American billionaire Eli Broad should be lauded for his patronage of the arts. British clothing designer Vivienne Westwood stated so eloquently that, "the purpose for the accumulation of wealth should be to become a patron." Like the Medici's of Florence Mr. Broad along with several heavy hitting power brokers from Geffen to Gehry all seek to raise Los Angeles' cultural capital as art epicenter. Where these wealthy men diverge is in their methodology. Whereas the Medici's sought to improve their city, these men are engaged in cultural empire building and branding. Los Angeles is really after all a factory town and just like the new online market place its brands, while visually enticing and often entertaining, are not always tangible.
The broad art foundation's website supports my thesis with the following statement regarding the foundations $60 million dollar donation to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art:
This unprecedented gift encompassed three philanthropic goals: to ensure LACMA’s crucial role in the presentation of modern and contemporary art in Los Angeles; to bring a great architect to LACMA to help redress its architectural and functional problems; and most importantly to catalyze and advance the growth of Los Angeles as a global capital of contemporary art.
I don't personally know Mr. Broad and we've never been introduced. However, if a person’s collection is a reflection of them, then Mr. Broad is a "handbag art collector." In the late 1980's in response to the failing couturier industry fashion houses sought to revive struggling brands by creating a desire and market for "affordable" personal luxury items. Portable yet recognizable items like key-chains and handbags fed into middle class desires to elevate ones status. These items were priced outrageously but not quite prohibitively so as to be the exclusive purvey of the elite. One need only peruse the list of Broad's collection which contains one predictable super brand after another. Each name is instantly recognizable by any first year art student or frequent museum visitor, all infinitely bankable to own as well as to draw visitors to the museums to which they are loaned.
You can't have Johns without Rauschenberg and you can't have Warhol without Baldessari. And, so it goes Warhol as well. The soap boxes in the gallery corner did not prepare me for my reaction to two pieces from the early years.
The first was Torn Campbell's Soup Can (Pepper Pot), 1962. I'd never seen the torn label pieces from the iconic first phase Campbell's Soup cans series by Warhol. It's easy to dismiss his work for it's prolific ad nauseum quality which is why I was so surprised at how unsettlingly delightful this piece was. Perhaps it fed into my subconscious desire to see the series vandalized. The torn and peeling label with crushed body presented an iconic image with flaws. I suspect my enjoyment goes beyond the obvious deconstruction and also lies in the pure formality of the piece. The chiaroscuro and the imperfections suggesting brushstrokes along with the tempera quality of the colors were appealing. The formal elements suggest movement and a divergence from his minimalist aesthetic. The label appears as if it has been clawed off, slice marks clearly visible. The torn label is almost violent and it fulfills a latent desire to be a spectator of violence or at least the product of it. The revealed tarnished can beneath suggests something unpleasant below the pristine label.
The second piece was the silver screen screened image of Elvis Presley, 1963. captured my attention as well. In this piece Warhol chose to copy a still of Elvis from the film Flaming Star. The entendre is so multi-layered it's like looking into a reflection of a reflection of a reflection in a mirror. The fact that this still depicts Elvis at the height of his film career. The silver print of the silver screen star. And, although I am not entirely sure about the meaning behind the phallic nature of the firearm, I could not miss its demand for focal attention. Additionally it is intriguing that Elvis stands ready seemingly, to shoot his beloved fans. To be quite honest I had only ever seen this image depicted in pastel palette with the head of Valerie Solanas and I had no idea that this was a take on an original portrait.
On the diametric opposite of the 3rd floor gallery were hung pieces from Ed Ruscha’s, Blue Collar Tech-Chem series. Ruscha's palindromes are clever and intriguing but his white box buildings series was incredible. An artist like Ed Ruscha should enjoy such prolonged relevance and he does so by stepping out of the hermetic and into the reflective role. Ruscha is still working with typographical elements and he keeps his painting relevant by including orderly structure(s). Ruscha is referencing the painter Thomas Cole's series titled, The Course of Empire, in which Cole creates presents a hierarchical view of nature, architecture, and humanity. Man reaches toward the heavens but still only mirrors natures grandeur and power in its rise and fall of empire. They present empire in the inescapable cyclical rise and eventual crestfall. Nothing is impermanent and it is this impermanence that Ruscha documents with his symbols of modern progress. He paints functional box-like structures where goods are produced and labor toiled. The narrative of movement and change over time remains the same. Ruscha keeps this work relevant and reflective when he references the political and economic forces of globalization. His structures are able to be repurposed as old signage is simply painted over. It's about the before and after not the cyclical as Cole presented. There is a disconnect and that is modern life.
I concluded my visit by stepping into the vibrant red box Barbara Kruger elevator and descended to the main floor of BCAM.
The sculpture presented in BCAM's main floor by sculptor Richard Serra were derived from his Torqued Ellipses series. Serra's 183-ton, Band, sculpture was indeed monumental and stood about 13 feet tall in a gallery space that allowed 323 people. The matte black ceiling, the subdued lighting, and lack of windows worked together to create a nested feeling. Although the continuous panels, seamed subtly on the diagonal in only 3 places, seemed to undulate as I moved through and around the piece. Slanted walls created the feeling of enclosed hallways that torqued through ellipsed paths. The walls were wavy and ribbon like but everything leaned in opposition which alleviated any feeling of repetition. Although there is a feeling of familiarity and similarity this was not actually the case. One unexpected aspect of experiencing this sculpture was its tactile cool quality.
In the adjacent west wing, Sequence, a sculpture of roughly the same size and composition occupied the entire room. Sequence was composed of two twisted elliptical structures encircled by a winding passageway. The separate sheets folded in together to create a repeated series of triangular entry points that gives one the feeling of squeezing through a small doorway, as they were just wider than the width of a person. What was beautiful about Band and Sequence was that my experience was the content of the sculpture. There's a lovely private intimacy about that, owing no doubt to the brilliance and lengthy experience of Serra.
Richard Serra was a native of San Francisco who settled in New York in the 1960's. He enjoyed a low profile in Southern California until recently. In the last couple of years, major works have been installed at UCLA, the Orange County Performing Arts center and the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego. Serra was once characterized with a brutal form of minimalism, even occasionally inciting protests. In recent times he has come to be embraced by the masses as well as many critics.
Serra speaking on the Torqued Ellipses series remarked, “That’s something I could not have anticipated, and it started happening about 10 years ago, when I showed the ‘Torqued Ellipses’ at Dia in New York,” he says. “I think people yearn for direct experience, something that is not programmed. Here, you are free to come and go where you want. There is no beginning or end. There is not a hierarchy of experiences built into it.” (http://articles.latimes.com/2008/jan/1
Ed Ruscha received support from his parents when he showed early signs of artistic skill. Initially he was attracted to cartooning which held his interests throughout his adolescent years. He studied at the Chouinard Art Institute (now known as the California Institute of the Arts) from 1956 through 1960. After graduation, he worked as a layout artist for a Los Angeles advertising agency. By the early 1960s he was well known for his paintings, collages, and photographs, and for his association with the Ferus Gallery group, which also included artists from the cool school or California school. By the 1970's Ruscha was enjoying solo shows and teaching at UCLA. Ruscha's paintings are known for his use and incorporation of words and phrases and palindromes.
The 60,000 square foot Renzo Piano-designed BCAM wing with its distinctive red escalator to the third-floor main entrance is exquisite. The clear roof composed of glass panels and sunshades that channel north light into the galleries is an engineering feat. The distinctive signature red accents are exciting. The open public gathering space and outdoor sculptures are wonderful. But like any museum, this $56-million space needs to insure it attracts visitors and nothing attracts like light, bright galleries filled with shiny pretty high ticket works. The selection of artists on BCAM's top floor gallery are as predictable as the valet parking out in front of BCAM. Whimsical is an apt description for the curated artworks by Andy Warhol, Ed Ruscha and John Baldessari. The superficiality of the 1980's is enjoying a resurgence in the beauty factory, aka Los Angeles, and at LACMA's new contemporary wing. Make it big and paint it red and they will surely come could have been the mantra of its curator, no doubt.
Un-edited slightly excoriating review of the LA County Museum of Art's Eli Broad contemporary wing.
Money Does Not (necessarily) Account for Taste but It Can Sure Buy a Lot of Confection
by Toro Castaño
American billionaire Eli Broad should be lauded for his patronage of the arts. British clothing designer Vivienne Westwood stated so eloquently that, "the purpose for the accumulation of wealth should be to become a patron." Like the Medici's of Florence Mr. Broad along with several heavy hitting power brokers from Geffen to Gehry all seek to raise Los Angeles' cultural capital as art epicenter. Where these wealthy men diverge is in their methodology. Whereas the Medici's sought to improve their city, these men are engaged in cultural empire building and branding. Los Angeles is really after all a factory town and just like the new online market place its brands, while visually enticing and often entertaining, are not always tangible.
The broad art foundation's website supports my thesis with the following statement regarding the foundations $60 million dollar donation to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art:
This unprecedented gift encompassed three philanthropic goals: to ensure LACMA’s crucial role in the presentation of modern and contemporary art in Los Angeles; to bring a great architect to LACMA to help redress its architectural and functional problems; and most importantly to catalyze and advance the growth of Los Angeles as a global capital of contemporary art.
I don't personally know Mr. Broad and we've never been introduced. However, if a person’s collection is a reflection of them, then Mr. Broad is a "handbag art collector." In the late 1980's in response to the failing couturier industry fashion houses sought to revive struggling brands by creating a desire and market for "affordable" personal luxury items. Portable yet recognizable items like key-chains and handbags fed into middle class desires to elevate ones status. These items were priced outrageously but not quite prohibitively so as to be the exclusive purvey of the elite. One need only peruse the list of Broad's collection which contains one predictable super brand after another. Each name is instantly recognizable by any first year art student or frequent museum visitor, all infinitely bankable to own as well as to draw visitors to the museums to which they are loaned.
You can't have Johns without Rauschenberg and you can't have Warhol without Baldessari. And, so it goes Warhol as well. The soap boxes in the gallery corner did not prepare me for my reaction to two pieces from the early years.
The first was Torn Campbell's Soup Can (Pepper Pot), 1962. I'd never seen the torn label pieces from the iconic first phase Campbell's Soup cans series by Warhol. It's easy to dismiss his work for it's prolific ad nauseum quality which is why I was so surprised at how unsettlingly delightful this piece was. Perhaps it fed into my subconscious desire to see the series vandalized. The torn and peeling label with crushed body presented an iconic image with flaws. I suspect my enjoyment goes beyond the obvious deconstruction and also lies in the pure formality of the piece. The chiaroscuro and the imperfections suggesting brushstrokes along with the tempera quality of the colors were appealing. The formal elements suggest movement and a divergence from his minimalist aesthetic. The label appears as if it has been clawed off, slice marks clearly visible. The torn label is almost violent and it fulfills a latent desire to be a spectator of violence or at least the product of it. The revealed tarnished can beneath suggests something unpleasant below the pristine label.
The second piece was the silver screen screened image of Elvis Presley, 1963. captured my attention as well. In this piece Warhol chose to copy a still of Elvis from the film Flaming Star. The entendre is so multi-layered it's like looking into a reflection of a reflection of a reflection in a mirror. The fact that this still depicts Elvis at the height of his film career. The silver print of the silver screen star. And, although I am not entirely sure about the meaning behind the phallic nature of the firearm, I could not miss its demand for focal attention. Additionally it is intriguing that Elvis stands ready seemingly, to shoot his beloved fans. To be quite honest I had only ever seen this image depicted in pastel palette with the head of Valerie Solanas and I had no idea that this was a take on an original portrait.
On the diametric opposite of the 3rd floor gallery were hung pieces from Ed Ruscha’s, Blue Collar Tech-Chem series. Ruscha's palindromes are clever and intriguing but his white box buildings series was incredible. An artist like Ed Ruscha should enjoy such prolonged relevance and he does so by stepping out of the hermetic and into the reflective role. Ruscha is still working with typographical elements and he keeps his painting relevant by including orderly structure(s). Ruscha is referencing the painter Thomas Cole's series titled, The Course of Empire, in which Cole creates presents a hierarchical view of nature, architecture, and humanity. Man reaches toward the heavens but still only mirrors natures grandeur and power in its rise and fall of empire. They present empire in the inescapable cyclical rise and eventual crestfall. Nothing is impermanent and it is this impermanence that Ruscha documents with his symbols of modern progress. He paints functional box-like structures where goods are produced and labor toiled. The narrative of movement and change over time remains the same. Ruscha keeps this work relevant and reflective when he references the political and economic forces of globalization. His structures are able to be repurposed as old signage is simply painted over. It's about the before and after not the cyclical as Cole presented. There is a disconnect and that is modern life.
I concluded my visit by stepping into the vibrant red box Barbara Kruger elevator and descended to the main floor of BCAM.
The sculpture presented in BCAM's main floor by sculptor Richard Serra were derived from his Torqued Ellipses series. Serra's 183-ton, Band, sculpture was indeed monumental and stood about 13 feet tall in a gallery space that allowed 323 people. The matte black ceiling, the subdued lighting, and lack of windows worked together to create a nested feeling. Although the continuous panels, seamed subtly on the diagonal in only 3 places, seemed to undulate as I moved through and around the piece. Slanted walls created the feeling of enclosed hallways that torqued through ellipsed paths. The walls were wavy and ribbon like but everything leaned in opposition which alleviated any feeling of repetition. Although there is a feeling of familiarity and similarity this was not actually the case. One unexpected aspect of experiencing this sculpture was its tactile cool quality.
In the adjacent west wing, Sequence, a sculpture of roughly the same size and composition occupied the entire room. Sequence was composed of two twisted elliptical structures encircled by a winding passageway. The separate sheets folded in together to create a repeated series of triangular entry points that gives one the feeling of squeezing through a small doorway, as they were just wider than the width of a person. What was beautiful about Band and Sequence was that my experience was the content of the sculpture. There's a lovely private intimacy about that, owing no doubt to the brilliance and lengthy experience of Serra.
Richard Serra was a native of San Francisco who settled in New York in the 1960's. He enjoyed a low profile in Southern California until recently. In the last couple of years, major works have been installed at UCLA, the Orange County Performing Arts center and the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego. Serra was once characterized with a brutal form of minimalism, even occasionally inciting protests. In recent times he has come to be embraced by the masses as well as many critics.
Serra speaking on the Torqued Ellipses series remarked, “That’s something I could not have anticipated, and it started happening about 10 years ago, when I showed the ‘Torqued Ellipses’ at Dia in New York,” he says. “I think people yearn for direct experience, something that is not programmed. Here, you are free to come and go where you want. There is no beginning or end. There is not a hierarchy of experiences built into it.” (http://articles.latimes.com/2008/jan/1
Ed Ruscha received support from his parents when he showed early signs of artistic skill. Initially he was attracted to cartooning which held his interests throughout his adolescent years. He studied at the Chouinard Art Institute (now known as the California Institute of the Arts) from 1956 through 1960. After graduation, he worked as a layout artist for a Los Angeles advertising agency. By the early 1960s he was well known for his paintings, collages, and photographs, and for his association with the Ferus Gallery group, which also included artists from the cool school or California school. By the 1970's Ruscha was enjoying solo shows and teaching at UCLA. Ruscha's paintings are known for his use and incorporation of words and phrases and palindromes.
The 60,000 square foot Renzo Piano-designed BCAM wing with its distinctive red escalator to the third-floor main entrance is exquisite. The clear roof composed of glass panels and sunshades that channel north light into the galleries is an engineering feat. The distinctive signature red accents are exciting. The open public gathering space and outdoor sculptures are wonderful. But like any museum, this $56-million space needs to insure it attracts visitors and nothing attracts like light, bright galleries filled with shiny pretty high ticket works. The selection of artists on BCAM's top floor gallery are as predictable as the valet parking out in front of BCAM. Whimsical is an apt description for the curated artworks by Andy Warhol, Ed Ruscha and John Baldessari. The superficiality of the 1980's is enjoying a resurgence in the beauty factory, aka Los Angeles, and at LACMA's new contemporary wing. Make it big and paint it red and they will surely come could have been the mantra of its curator, no doubt.
