ST was visiting from Philly this past weekend, and we drove to Mass MoCA in North Adams. (Sorry, Spooner. I went without you this time. But we can go again when you are stateside in a few weeks.)
Any trip to Mass MoCA must include a stop in the basement bathroom, a spiffed-up version of the Sprague Electric Company (Mass MoCA's previous incarnation) employee's washroom.
The main exhibit right now is Ahistoric, in which artists take historic material and refashion it or create anachronistic juxtapositions that have new meaning. More info on Mass MoCA's website.
In the gigantic space in Building 5 is Carsten Hoeller's Amusement Park, an eerie recreation of a broken-down amusement park. The space is dark and quiet, and the five rides periodically light up and begin to come to life with slow, jerky movements. The exhibit description says that the speed changes daily, and I think we must have been there on a very slow day. It's supposed to give you an altered sense of time and space. I've put pix of the Twister and the Gravitron Thriller on my Flickr page.
Another installation is a whole bunch of mirrored doors, at different angles and assembled in a circle so you can walk completely around it. It reminded me of the fitting rooms in old-fashioned department stores. There's a photo of that on the Flickr page as well.
Before we left the complex, we wandered around in back of one of the buildings and found lots of rusty relics of Mass MoCA's industrial past.
Here's a great little article, complete with audio slideshow (a must-see, but alas, Gina isn't featured), about the Hackneyed Portraits exhibit at MOBA: So bad, it's good
Erin did a fine job of representing us at the gala opening of “Hackneyed Portraits” at MOBA. She also provided the pix below. I interviewed her about the experience.M. J.: Set the scene for me. What was the event like? Who was there? What was happening?Erin: Curator Mike Frank, wearing a tux, Louise Sacco, the Permanent Acting Interim Executive Director, and Garen Daly, Director of Special Events, were there and all were very welcoming. I think there were maybe about 20 other patrons of the bad arts milling about the gallery and looking at the works. Mike had chosen some great background music for the event – instrumental jazz accompanied by loons, and yodeling of the classics. As I made my way around the room, I definitely caught wind of the buzz in the air, “We have a donor here!” Tee hee! M. J.: What’s this I read about “traditional MOBA snacks”? What did they serve?
Erin: Louise supplied the purple and green Kool-Aid and cheese curls as well as other chips and fruits. It was all very colorful and festive, in a garishly neon way. I stayed away from the cheese curls – I assumed that they weren’t vegan, but come to think about it, they may have been made with a chemical cheese food substance that wasn’t a dairy product at all. M. J.: What about our painting? How were people reacting to it?Erin: Well, when I got there, I immediately began searching for Gina, but I didn’t see her hanging among the 20-some other portraits. Turns out she was covered with a burgundy cloth. When the official part of the ceremonies started, Mike called me up and asked me to read the description as he unveiled the painting: "Frightening non-kosher demons haunt this blonde, blue-eyed beauty in a see-through blouse." Some people gasped, others laughed, all applauded. I felt so proud and honored. A woman came up to me later and asked if I’d be putting on my resume that I’m a patron of MOBA. I think I will! Woo hoo! (Blogger’s note: Erin was raised among mild-mannered Midwestern Episcopalians, and she never uses salty language or is the least bit sarcastic. “Tee hee” and “Woo hoo” are genuine indicators of great glee and enthusiasm.)
M. J.: What have you learned about the bad arts as a result of this experience? Do you have any advice to pass along to other would-be patrons?Erin: This whole saga, from the acquisition to the unveiling, has taught me to trust my taste in bad art. I was telling Curator Mike that, when we first saw the painting at the flea market, we recognized its elements of badness but didn’t know if it was MOBA-worthy. “How could you not know?” he asked me repeatedly. I can now say with confidence that I will truly know bad art when I see it. As Mike says, “I don’t let good technique stand in the way of bad art.”
I've been on Flickr for almost five months now, and as of today my photostream has been viewed 500 times. The picture with the most views is the one of the factory wall (see 3/13/2006 post below) with 51 hits. This picture of the stairs at the end of Green Street is currently in second place with 26 hits. All of this is small potatoes compared to some people on Flickr, but I'm pretty pleased with myself. I now belong to 10 groups, including ones for Mini Coopers, Roadside America, Found Art Still Life, Northampton, Pioneer Valley, flea markets and factories. I even have a few Flickr contacts who, in addition to my pals who are compelled to say nice things, have left complimentary comments on a few of my pix. Much as I hate to admit it (see previous rant), I am participating in social networking of a sort. But it's for art's sake.
