The Emperor Needs New Clothes

November 17th, 2009 • Amanda
Photo by Amanda Miller of Marianne Vierø's exhibit at Number 35 Gallery.
Last week in the Guardian, Jonathan Jones mused as to the meaninglessness of modern art.  In his blog entry, entitled "The Best Art is Meaningless," he claimed that "the easier it is to say what a work is about, the less interesting that work becomes."  Well, I wish someone could put into words what the art I've seen lately is all about.  I'd take "less interesting" over utterly baffled any day. While photographing Tracey Emin’s opening at Lehmann Maupin the other day, I took a break to talk to artist Ron Rocheleau of Concrete TV.  I asked Ron what any of this art means, because to me, all of these openings, week after week, are the emperor’s new clothes.  If I am understanding him correctly, Ron told me that modern artists are part of a movement that has meaning and weight.  If not individually, then in aggregate…in hindsight, at the very least. Having left Emin’s opening utterly bored by the overt ambition of her agenda, I went home and pulled up old photos of Number 35’s latest show.  Despite feeling profound respect for this small gallery start-up, as I looked back at images of yellow-lacquered plywood and painted dots on graph paper, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’ve been missing something.  I wonder if appreciation might simply be due to those with the boldness to exhibit anything at all.  Maybe the bigger picture is that there is a community in this city that supports creative expression and that is a profound thing in and of itself.  Perhaps there’s nothing to think about and attempted deduction isn’t even appropriate in this day and age. In the 1950’s, a group of Georgetown housewives took turns getting up from the bridge table to splatter ketchup, syrup, house paint and other sticky materials onto canvases using kitchen utensils.  The wives showed their work to their husbands, who approved.  They then called galleries, which were receptive to the work and asked permission to exhibit.  When offers to buy started coming in, the wives laughed, having confirmed their suspicions. It is not fair to group people into a singular category.  Mister Artsee’s show last month was fresh and substantial.  Dennis Hopper’s historically significant Signs of the Times took my breath away.  In general, however, this season’s art on exhibit has failed to resonate with me. Amanda Miller
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