Gabriel Orozco’s. A Citroën sliced lengthwise into three long pieces, then reassembled without the middle part (La D.S., 1993, on exhibit at the Beaubourg in Paris).
Maya Lin. Wave Field University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 1995.
Doris Salcedo.
IT’S 10:53. THE NIGHT BEFORE THE ASSIGNMENT DUE DATE. I’M KINDA TIRED, BEEN SCHOOLING, BEEN WORKING, BEEN GOLFING, BEN CHILLIN. I DECIDED TO TYPE IN ALL CAPS JUST BE ANNOYING. IN THE NEW BOOK, THE 1ST SECTION GOES FROM PG 588-600. I LOOKED AT IT AND THOUGHT … CRAP THAT’S A LOT OF READING ARTIST BIOS., SO … (Okay, I’m done typing in all caps, it’s starting to annoy me) … I decided to google images of all 30 something of the artist’s work. I put check marks by the artist’s names whose work reached out and grabbed my attention. I marked three that, at least on a computer, seemed to me as the most creative. Again … I am looking at a computer screen. They were Maya Lin, Gabriel Orozco, and Doris Salcedo. I think what strikes me the most is the unexpected twist of reality that these works invoke. I remember when I was at PS1 in New York. I had not been overly impressed with any of the work I had seen. One exhibit featured some Max Headroom looking 3-d animated head, talking about pubic hair. Then on the third floor, I saw a single door swing open. It resembled a high school door from a 1950’s horror film. On the frosted glass were 1 inch black letters that read James Turrell “Meeting”. As the door swung open, I noticed there was a small square room with a bench that went 360 (except for the door) and there were a bunch of people in the room. They were all looking up. I entered the room with no expectations. There was a square opening to the sky in a small square room. I stayed in there for over 20 minutes looking at clouds go by. The room was the frame, the work was the sky itself. Every once in a while a large black crow would break the edge of the frame and float across the sea of sky blue and puffy white then disappear into the frame somewhere else. The path of the crow created an imaginary line that seemed to remain for a time, like the filaments of a light bulb stay etched on your retinas when flung into darkness. It was a memorable and exceptional experience. I like these works. I like the way they trick the brain. The school will be pleased to note that there was no nudity in any of these artist’s works. Crap – It’s 11:46 – I have a History exam in the morning. BLOG OVER!
James Turrell “Meeting” MoMA PS1, NYC