Prior to Thanksgiving break we sequestered to the Walker and Bell Museum in Mpls for a class trip. I was genuinely excited to be going to the Walker because despite living in the area for 3 years I had yet to make my inaugural visit. I feel like it had been talked about even in every day conversation that it was going to be mind-blowing. Unfortunately when I got there I was faced with the fact that a gallery is only as good as the exhibition in it. The majority of the space was taken up by Yves Klein a french, post WW2 artist. Much to my dismay he wasn't like his fellow artist of the same name Yves Tanguy of which I am much more smitten with. Regrettably there was a monochromatic study of blue. Not cool things in blue, not an experience that made me feel blue, but rather just mundane things in a shade of royal blue. Having only an hour so to scout premises I somehow finished my tour of the Walker with time to spare. The photography section was easily the strongest part of the gallery. Liz and I were in agreement that the single strongest piece was a photo of an old band stage. Similarly regrettable was performance art. Naked people doing nothing in a weird environment isn't even that strange to me anymore after having been to enough galleries, shows what have you. Simply getting people interested based on shock and obscurity doesn't seem to be anything new, we've all seen naked people before so get over yourselves. The Bell museum was exactly how I had left it since taking classes in its auditorium, old and full of dioramas. I attempted miserably to draw some beavers and their habitat. I'm pretty sure if I tried again blindfolded I would do a better job.
Prior to Thanksgiving break we sequestered to the Walker and Bell Museum in Mpls for a class trip. I was genuinely excited to be going to the Walker because despite living in the area for 3 years I had yet to make my inaugural visit. I feel like it had been talked about even in every day conversation that it was going to be mind-blowing. Unfortunately when I got there I was faced with the fact that a gallery is only as good as the exhibition in it. The majority of the space was taken up by Yves Klein a french, post WW2 artist. Much to my dismay he wasn't like his fellow artist of the same name Yves Tanguy of which I am much more smitten with. Regrettably there was a monochromatic study of blue. Not cool things in blue, not an experience that made me feel blue, but rather just mundane things in a shade of royal blue. Having only an hour so to scout premises I somehow finished my tour of the Walker with time to spare. The photography section was easily the strongest part of the gallery. Liz and I were in agreement that the single strongest piece was a photo of an old band stage. Similarly regrettable was performance art. Naked people doing nothing in a weird environment isn't even that strange to me anymore after having been to enough galleries, shows what have you. Simply getting people interested based on shock and obscurity doesn't seem to be anything new, we've all seen naked people before so get over yourselves. The Bell museum was exactly how I had left it since taking classes in its auditorium, old and full of dioramas. I attempted miserably to draw some beavers and their habitat. I'm pretty sure if I tried again blindfolded I would do a better job.
No comments:
Post a Comment