New York City: The Guggenheim and MoMA

The unique atrium in the Guggenheim. 

[Read Part One] [Read Part Two]

Jennifer and I regrouped in front of The Met. It was still a gorgeous summer afternoon. I have rarely had experiences in my life when traffic noise was so refreshing. It was the slap in the face I needed to snap me out of it. Originally, we were going to go to The Guggenheim Museum tomorrow, but it was just three blocks or so away. We walked a ways and sat on a bench against a tall brick wall that was Central Park on the other side. We spoke of The Met, of course. We couldn’t stop it. Madame X came up multiple times.

So, instead of being tired of art we felt inspired and oh so very fortunate. We walked on to the Guggenheim. There was desire enough to see more Art. In this way the museum oddly accommodated us. Two of the floors and the gigantic atrium were under construction for an upcoming exhibition. About half the museum was actually open to the public.

It was just the right amount of a different artistic vibe. We met an experienced and enthusiastic guard that explained everything. The museum is rather famous for giving artists more leeway in terms of what they do to the museum. Paint, panels, light, whatever you want as long as you play with the existing structure and don’t ignore that.

Part of an exhibit that would open in about three weeks.

Paul Cézanne. Still Life: Plate of Peaches. 1879-80.

Another Cézanne. Still Life: Flask, Glass, and Jug. 1877.

Edouard Manet. Woman in Striped Dress. 1877-80. This shows a difficulty every museum I've ever visited has with lighting certain pieces, particularly if they are behind a glass surface. The reflection of the lighting ruins the image and you often have to reposition yourself to get a better view of the piece. This was a new Manet for me and surprisingly simple.

An unusual painting by a young Pablo Picasso. Le Moulin de la Galette. November 1900.

Caution Art.

A view of the atrium from the second floor.

Maurizio Cattelan. Comedian. 2019. Banana and duct tape, Edition 3/3

It was comparatively quiet here.

Farah Al Qasimi. Woman in Leopard Print. 2019. Photography. Inkjet Print, Edition 4/5

Soft sculpture. Claes Oldenburg. Coosje van Bruggen. Soft Shuttlecock. 1995. 

Atrium from the 4th Floor.

BBBRRRRRRRRAAAAAHHHHKKK! Power equipment was assembling a wall. The unique architecture of the building made the great space a huge bowl of sound from the workers power drilling and cutting and hammering below. No echo just amplification. This definitely jolted me into a completely different relationship with Art. This was Art being made in a world-famous space. It was loud and confusing and somewhat ugly but it was real. This has to happen for all the rest to happen.

We started with impressionism which actually connected quite well back to The Met “oh wow!” experience. And we slowly wound our way downward through the parts of the museum that were open. The construction noise continued but if was more background as you went into the more enclosed outer spaces of the museum.

The famous banana with duct tape moment was as laughable as you might expect. We made a big to-do over it. The rest of what was available was interesting. A 2019 photograph listed as “Inkjet Print, Edition 4/5” was particularly striking for me.

Gustav Klimt. Hope, II. 1908-09.

 Henri Matisse did about 80 sculptures. This one is Tlari. 1930. Bronze

The frenzy over The Starry Night.

A shot of the detail.

Picasso's famous Les Demoiselles d'Avignon. 1907. 

The cubism room at MoMA.

František Kupka. Mme Kupka among Verticals. 1910-11.

Edward Hopper. Gas. 1940. detail

Andrew Wyeth. Christina's World. 1948. Tempera on panel. A masterpiece.

A masterpiece of a different kind. Jackson Pollock. One: Number 31, 1950. 1950.

The Rothko room at MoMA.

The next day we were at MoMA because it was a Wednesday and The Met is closed on Wednesdays. August is apparently the month for construction of major autumn exhibits. Again, two floors were closed but that still left a large collection. We started on the 5^th Floor and descended. Van Gogh’s The Starry Night was there. I’ve known about this painting virtually all my life but it’s the first time I ever saw it.

But it was a Klimt that was standing in my face as I exited the elevator. It was a crowded area right at the elevators so I waited for people to clear out so I could take a proper photo of it and actually see the piece. Starry Night was a crowded mess, the way it is with many famous pieces. It is the first destination for many visitors so there’s always a crowd, I guess.

Further into the museum, the crowd lessened and we were treated with Hopper, Wyeth, Picasso, Pollock and Warhol, of course. There were various installations of various interest. Paintings of the famous surrealist Rene Magritte especially grabbed my attention.

There was no “oh wow!” moment at either The Guggenheim or MoMA. But both were rewarding calls to worship. There are more masterpieces to broaden the experience of seeing Art and stopping a moment to step into its idea or imminence or space silently so that it might speak to us.

Jasper Johns. Flag. 1954-55. Enamel and oil on plywood paneling.

Andy Warhol. Campbell's Soup Cans. 1965.

Exhibit hall with art being installed. Another September exhibit deadline approaches.

Isa Genzken. Red-Yellow-Black Double Ellipsoid "Twin". 1982. Lacquer on wood.

Judith Barry. Imagination, dead Image. 1991.

I sat in this room a long time, mostly watching the people react negatively to whatever was happening on screen. It is a box of four video images of the same person giving you a 360 degree view of her. Randomly through time, various substances are poured over her head. At times there are worms and insects crawling over her. The entire time there is slow, steady breathing. In this way you could close your eyes and discover it was quite meditative. Jennifer thought it was horrific. I enjoyed watching how others reacted more than anything. Art is not always about Beauty.

Richard Serra. Equal. 2015. 

René Magritte. The False Mirror. 1929.

René Magritte. The Lovers. 1928.