It didn't disappoint. In fact, it was so epic, we made two trips there!
Here are some of the highlights.'
This piece was on the top floor. It appears to be just an old dot matrix printer pushing out endless streams of text. But when you look closer, it is transcriptions of news headlines. Just seeing the printer spill out all of this (for lack of a better word) 'garbage' really made a point to me about the 24/7 saturated news environment we live in. I mean I'm sure there are people who live their lives glued to Fox News, MSNBC, or CNN. And for what?
To end up like this?
What do we miss in our own lives while we focus on other things - news? Facebook? Twitter? The Game Show Network? Shopping? Snapchat? Instagram? Pop culture? What meaningless trivialities do we let clog up the space in our lives that could be filled with memories of our families and friends, with our jobs and doing good things for the world around us?
The museum was featuring the work of surrealist Rene Magritte. I had high expectations for this, as I knew him for his famous paintings of detectives with bowler hats on and fruit in front of their faces, but those images were few and far between in this exhibit (and we weren't allowed to take pictures of his most iconic pieces).
I've seen this rock style of painting from Magritte before, but it was in a castle instead of hanging suspended in the air. As I read the museum's interpretation of this style of work (which is one of my favorite things to do in art museums). The critique noted how when you look at this painting, you are taken by the massive bolder. I mean it's hard not to; it's the dominant feature in the frame. I thought when I saw this, well, that's odd, but it's modern art, which happens to all be weird. But the more I thought about it, the more I began to realize my focus was drawn to the massive boulder. I would never have noticed it in so much detail had Magritte just painted a mountainside or boulder strewn field.
As I read more about the critique's take on this painting. He noted how Magritte chose to suspend the boulder in air, for your natural instinct is to imagine it obeying the laws of nature and plummeting to the ground (which is what I was doing as I read that). Then the critique noted how the reason Magritte does this is to draw more attention to the boulder. Since it's suspended in air out of its natural habitat or environment, you can't help but naturally study the boulder in greater depth and detail. Amazing!
As soon as we stepped into the elevator - our plan was to start at the top and work our way down the seven floors - I noticed that along the top of the elevator were displays for the main attractions on each floor. I spotted a Rothko beckoning everyone to the second floor. I couldn't wait!
I quickly sent my wife these pictures. She noted it was a payback for when my group in NYC wanted to go shopping while her group wanted to go to the MOMA.
Next up, Roy Lichtenstein, one of my favorite artists. I first found his work years ago on a Magnet Arts trip with Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Stock to the Walker Art Museum in Minneapolis.
I love Lichtenstein's use of dots, which I believe is called pointillism. I love his sharp primary colors and the pop art he depicts in his work. It seems trivial, but when you look more deeply, nothing in his work is trivial. That's the point, in fact. He turns our trivial detail against us to shock us.
I was in a different section of the museum when this piece stopped me in my tracks. As I looked at it more, I thought, this has to be a Lichtenstein. The dots gave it away.
Then when I scanned the plague, sure enough. It was Lichtenstein!
I've no idea what artist constructed this, but it fascinated me. I just wish my iPhone did it justice. There is just something about the colors and lines that captivated me.
Speaking of lines, they had one of my favorites on display too - Piet Mondrian.
I saw Mondrian's work in a Western Civ textbook from high school. I have been a fan every since. There is something that just fascinated me about his use of lines, which I never thought as interesting before his use, and his spare use of color on the margins.
On our second visit to the MOMA, I saw this. It stopped me in my tracks. This is a Mondrian! Only it's not. It's a tribute to his work from another artist. Gotta love the lines and primary colors at the margins.
The next section was a favorite of some College Comp students. One of the books we read is The Element by Sir Ken Robinson. In it he focuses on how people find their 'elements' (where you passion and talents intersect). One person he highlights is the artist Chuck Close. Close became famous for his art, but then he suffered paralysis. Amazingly, though, it didn't deter him from his element. In fact, he pioneered a new way to paint (holding the brush in his mouth) to create this amazing mosaic portraits.
Until I read this, I never realized that Close, like me, was such a fan of Lichtenstein's works. Since I read this the dots that Lichtenstein used and the sections that Close paints are very similar and create a deeper viewing experience.
And, if I'm not mistake, this picture is of Roy Lichtenstein himself!!!
My favorite part was when a student turned a corner, saw the massive paintings and exclaimed, "Mr. Reynolds!!! It's Chuck Close! The Element! The Element!" That totally made my day.
And speaking of making one's day. The second floor - and its collection of Mark Rothko paintings - did exactly that. I've seen his work at the Walker and at the MOMA in LA (which had an entire room devoted to his works), so I was ready this time.
I spent a good ten minutes in front of this one just letting it soak in.
The trick with a Rothko is to view it as close as possible for as long as possible. Rothko himself said the best viewing distance is 18 inches. I was even closer.
Rothko was famous for brushing layer of paint upon layer of paint. So that the brush strokes seem to take on a life of their own as the shades beneath them flair out.
The colors bleed into one another as if they are gas clouds on Jupiter. The edges just draw you in.
The colors swirl and take on a life of their own.
Finally, up close, the colors blend to form new shades you can't tell from far away. Here I'm six inches from the painting (and keeping an eye out for security). As I looked closely specks of orange began to peek out from behind the blue like stars winking in the night sky.
Now, if I can just convince my group on the 2020 choir trip to New York City to visit the MOMA there, I will die a happy man.