MoMA Reborn: The Happy Hangover Review

The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) has reopened in midtown Manhattan and the reviews are in. They range from unlearned and dully dismissive (see New York Post columnist Gersh Kuntzman in Newsweek) to fawning and overcongratulatory (see New York Times art critic, Holland Cotter's love letter). In other words, what you'd expect.

What I didn't expect (my personal taste in museums running toward industrial and rough around the edges) was to be so charmed by the new building (by famed Japanese architect Yoshio Taniguchi). From what I had heard, I expected to hate it. Artnet columnist and all around crumudgeon Charlie Finch had me expecting something terribly cold and corporate:

Sitting in the spacious sixth-floor atrium of the brave new Museum of Modern Art, listening to a dentefricial Ron Lauder praise himself and his wealthy colleagues, one remembers a more intimate MoMA where working class people brought a sandwich in a brown bag and a book of poems, or Shakespeare, to rest and bask in the temple of art.

That world, and that ethos, are gone forever. Even 9/11 could not bring them back, at least not in midtown Manhattan. Looking at Rosenquist’s F-111 like an altarpiece, one can hear the little blonde girl quoting Pogo, "We have met the enemy, and it is us."

Looking at Taniguchisan’s sterile environment, like a larger version of the interiors at MoMA QNS, one thinks of the auditorium scenes in films such as Charly or 1984. The individual is sucked out of existence in this matrix; the individual artist disappears in the wake of the exchange value of the art object.

We had a totally different experience at the opening we attended last night (the fiance and I). It may have been the flowing cocktails, but we had a great time and found the new building wonderous.

You couldn't take your drinks into the galleries, but there were bars in the lobbies of three of its 6 floors, so who cared (although I don't think that will be the usual case). We need to go back to see the galleries dedicated to drawings and photography when we're less, shall we say, full of spirit.

We did spent a bit of time near the Carl Andre floor sculpture encouraging people to walk on it (you're meant to, but it's still fun to watch folks doubt whether it's allowed), but otherwise flew through the permanent collection, and headed back to the atrium, where the fingerfood was abundant.

But, about the building. For me the sterility of the design was offset charmingly by a strange abundance of dust bunnies everywhere (even on top of the massive Donald Judd sculpture on the 4th?/5th? floor). I guess the $425-million renovations didn't leave enough money for a Hoover.

The second-floor atrium is amazing. Standing there, looking up, you see windows allowing just a peek at the work on the upper floors (my favorite was the corner of Matisse's "Dance"* you can see, prompting a silly debate, and our own dance back and forth, to determine whether there were five or four dancers...I won...there are five ;PPP). As this helpful list of FAQ for visitors sums it up:

Climb to the second-floor atrium, crane your neck up and feel your head spin. Then race to the sixth floor, where only a panel of glass separates you from the ant-like activity a vertiginous 110 feet below.

Doing that while tipsy may not be the smartest thing though...the 6th floor glass guardrail felt somewhat flimsy.

The biggest jaw-dropper is the 6th floor gallery itself. It's humungous. So much so it dwarfs both Ellsworth Kelly's "Sculpture for a Large Wall" (65 feet long) and Rosenquist's "F-111" (86 feet long). Living in a small apartment, one of my pet peeves about New York is empty space. You could fit my entire apartment several times over in one of the several totally unused corners of this gallery. We stood at one end of the gallery, looking across at the tiny people on the horizon of the other end, and imagined we'd need rollerblades to move around if this were our apartment.

You'll perhaps notice I haven't mentioned much about the art. I have my personal favorites among the permanent collection, but I've seen it many times. Also, the existing art is not the star at the moment, despite the curators' best efforts. Right now it's all about the anticipation...what the future holds for contemporary art...the installation was designed to convey that I suspect. As a colleague of mine noted, it will be nice when they fill the place up.

*Not the view I'm talking about.

Comments

[Randy Paul]

I'm still trying to get over that $20 admission fee . . .

[Edward]

I'm still trying to get over that $20 admission fee . . .

Yeah. It totally sucks.

I get in for free, as my corporate job includes a corporate membership, but I actually believe the $20 fee is a big mistake and they'll end up changing it. At least I hope.

[crionna]

The SF Chronicle summed up your feelings by saying that while the architect certainly knew what he was doing, the curators don't yet know how best to use the space. I imagine they'll learn in time for my next visit.

[wilfred]

everyone should have that experience going to the new MoMa, in for free and liquored-up and fed gratis!

[Edward]

everyone should have that experience going to the new MoMa, in for free and liquored-up and fed gratis!

Yeah...I'm spoiled. ;-)

[judson]

Edward,

I know you follow ny art. one of my best friends, Ray Abeyta is an artist living in Williamsburg. I wonder if your know of him? see his work here;

http://www.owingsdewey.com/artists/rayabeyta/index.html?page=1&work_id=2

his wife, Alyssa owns a bar there called The Union Pool.

[Edward]

Judson,

I know Union Pool...nice place. I didn't know Ray's work before you sent the link...very accomplished. I'll pop into Union Pool and introduce myself. Thanks.

e