They're Smarter Than You Think
Last weekend, a good friend and I were lucky enough to roam around the hallways of an empty Ps1. The converted NYC public school is currently home to the gargantuan Mike Kelley retrospective. If you are new to the art scene or are too lazy to leave your moms basement, you have heard of this exhibit. MoMA’s PR team has done a tremendous job in turning the show into a must-see-spectacle with statements like “the largest exhibition of the artist’s work to-date and the first comprehensive survey since 1993” and “the biggest exhibition MoMA PS1 has ever organized since its inceptual Rooms exhibition in 1976”. It’s four month run will combined with the subway and bus advertisements will ensure its massive attendance. This past Sunday was my third time seeing it.
(Some good advice from a Kelley piece)
Annie (my friend) and I made a point of hanging out in the gallery where Deodorized Central Mass with Satellites was hung—a gallery which on a regular weekend has a 15 minute wait to enter. We were all alone in the gallery, the only thing standing between us and the smelly shitty looking stuffed animal balls were a couple of museum guards. Since the guards looked nicer and cleaner than Kelley’s installation, we struck up a conversation with them.
( Those angular sculptures on the wall emit a pine-sol like fragrance every 5 min and since we were very much alone in the room, the guards were kind enough to allow me to make an ass out of myself and try and smell it cc @annietauchincloss )
Before I go on, I’ll admit that it never once crossed my mind that museum guards, the pesky assholes that tell you to step away from the art, spend more time with and around art than most museum heads, auction specialists, art history professors or any art related profession that requires one to write emails or kiss the well-rounded bottoms of their clients.
( A close up of the giant glorified glade air fresheners)
The guard, a lovely woman whose name I forget because I have trouble in that area, ended up teaching me more about Kelley’s famous installation piece than the internet and the exhibition catalogue combined. She told me that she liked working in this gallery the best because she was made to feel apart of the installation. Once I thought about this for a little while I realized she was totally right—upon entering the gallery, the viewer is swallowed/surrounded by the masses and deodorizers and once you begin to bob and weave through the stuffed conglomerates, you’ve become part of it’s orbital path.
(someone bobbin' and weavin' through the installation)
During her shift in the Deodorized Central Mass gallery, the lovely guard had amassed a long list of astute observations that she was so kind enough to share with Annie and I. One reflection struck me as particularly perceptive. In the middle of our back and forth, the guard asked us why all the stuffed animals were facing away from the viewers. I had been in that room at least twice before that and had spent at least a half hour meandering through it and had not noticed that every single animal was sewn inward. After she dropped that bomb, the three of us theorized on this seemingly obvious observation for a solid 10 min.
(See! All are facing inward, none facing the viewer)
At the end of our time in the gallery, the guard told us that they’re not allowed to tell visitors what they think about the art. I think that that’s terrible. While most may not have art history degrees, they sure as hell spend more time with your supposed “passion” than you do. So my advice to everyone who visits a museum on a quiet day is to talk to the guards—if they’re not as sharp as this lady was then they can at least tell you about how some 4 year old tried to piss on the art.