This past weekend I spent a lazy Saturday at the MoMA with my cousin. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time (I guess med school is an acceptable reason to live in the tundra that is upstate NY) and thus had much catching up to do. Unlike movie theaters (where talking is unacceptable) or restaurants (where you inevitably get politely kicked out), museums are fantastic places for spending time with loved ones, just wandering around and filling each other in on all the recent happenings of life. Not to mention catching a glimpse of some Van Gogh or Monet.
Of the larger museums in NYC, so far MoMA is my fave. Mostly because it is a lot more fun to say than the others. Try it. MO…MA…MO…MA…MO…MA… MO.MO.MO.MA.MA.MA . Fun, right? Another reason I’m a fan of the MoMA is that there is always a piece of modern art in there that validates why I would have failed in pursuing a career in art. I’m just not that
weird deep. Examples:
- Giant paper mache hamburgers, cake slices, or sneakers
- Chairs hanging from steel I-beams suspended from the ceiling
- A collection of miniature knick-knacks housed in a dark room
- A room full of industrial waste
Upon seeing bizarre installations like these, first I think, “Oh, nifty.” Then I think, “How is this art??”
Maybe I need to take an art appreciation class or something, but I just don’t get it. As someone who enjoys making art, the ultimate goal of all my paintings is to make something pretty. It’s never a commentary on the use of torture in the military or my perspective of environmental decline. It’s more about sunsets and flowers. Is that why these artists are in the MoMA and I paint in a senior citizen center? I guess so.