It's rare that a Museum can be spot on with every aspect of an exhibition-the lighting might be too hot or off angle, the sculptures might be too tall for the scale of a room, or perhaps the painting department is strong but the photography is, meh.. After a month of just envying the raucous felt from New York's Fall kick off and second annual Performa buzz, the SFMoMa tonight volleyed its weight and hit every nail on the nose with its current exhibitions in every department.
The Design and Architecture Department houses an almost surreal frozen BMW by Olafur Eliasson with his distinct neon yellow beaming from below the stainless steel exoskeleton like a modern day Christine from Stephen King's novel. The Modernist permanent collection shook off its dust and looked so fresh it could have fooled me as a solid contemporary show. Groupings of artworks by one artist resonated seamlessly to the others in its proximity, echoing either its color scheme, or complementing its subject matter. Walking through the galleries became a lucid experience of joy. For example, a few electrifying Yves Klein paintings and a scultpure in one corner bled into a sublime cerulean Mark Rothko painting whose dense abyss emerged into a brilliant orange abstract sunset. Unusually muted Philip Guston paintings, let the room breathe leading your eye to a delightful Dali sculpture of a red Dorothy shoe filled with marble squares, hairs and brass twining on a plinth that made you feel like a kid gawking at unusual creatures at the Bay Aquarium. Around the corner, Alexander Calder's sculptures and merry mobiles playfully interacted with the contours of a glowing Hans Arp bronze. Three minimal white Robert Rauschenberg panels are lit by a blue neon Dan Flavin jetting up at a 45 degree angle. I imagined for a moment that the Flavin could have been a glorious beacon in the night lighting pristine white futuristic architecture as public sculpture if the glowstick were thirty times its original height. Jeff Wall's lightboxes were perfect in scale to the museum walls. My standing ovation goes to SFMoMA building architect, Mario Botta, for anyone who knows a museum's layout can make or break its exhibition designs. The SFMoMA building is like a comfortable modern home. It is sleek but doesn't shout at you or make you uneasy. Although, the bridge on the Fifth floor where Matthew Barney's permanent Drawing Restraint lives is a doozy, rightfully so. Not to fret, as one can easily be distracted by the Eliasson nano-lacquered tunnel temporarily canopied above the footbridge. (Look up, unless you live for vertigo tingles in your fingertips). I was only once claustrophobic when accosted by about nine of Wall's gigantic lightboxes in one room together. The most recent SFMoMa acquisition (pictured above) is an exquisite piece and didn't make any fanfare announcements of its arrival. A silk yarn sculpture by Teresita Fernandez. Elegant, whimsical and breathtaking, it lives in its own room, complemented by a few graphite drawings that reflected similar subject matter, string and rubbery bits. That was kind of pushing the limit of exhibition design, but I accepted it. Okay, someone was on a roll. But the blue ribbon winner for the evening went to the Douglas Gordon exhibition room which I spent over an hour and a half with. Well, I was waiting to go to the New Langton auction later that evening as well, but this room kept me entertained regardless. Titled, "Pretty Much Every Film and Video Work from 1992 until Now", the room was painted black and tv's were perched on plinths of every size, lining every wall. I felt like I was in David Bowie's living room in "The Man Who Fell to Earth" or Chris Marker's "La Jetee" or even in the privacy of my own home where I have itunes opened, youtube, myspace, the television and a call on the phone going simultaneously. Every visual and audio sensory stimulated and engaged. Some videos had headphones, some were silent. I sat for a long time listening to Gordon sing acapella, Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground, which I've been indulging in this Winter, but you can watch other videos in the room too while on the headphones to alter the experience. There was Captain Kirk flirting with all types of glamorous space ladies, an elephant on HD lying around, walking around and blinking, The Excorcist overlayed with a Christian black and white bible thumping film. Even the museum goers in the dark room added to the enigma. It made me feel like I was living in an art piece somewhere between a Todd Hido photograph and that scene in Nightmare on Elmstreet 3 where the patient gets sucked into the TV in the mental ward. The room itself was compelling, eerie, and felt very 70's family room with square cushion chairs, and old monitors. There were scenes from TV, cinema noir, voyeuristic performances of Gordon taping his face, painting his hand with a sharpie. It was gross and it was TV at its most magnetic. I couldn't turn away. There was a video of a lady stripping with an enormous rack and I caught people watching it but feeling ashamed and trying to look past it. When the late night Thursday crowd entered they felt so at ease in the room they just started chatting as if it were a lounge. I had to shhhhsh them, but...I had to. If their jokes were funny, maybe I'd let them chit chat. But it was like, "Dude, I can do that", kind of jibberish. Kudos to all the curators and installation staff. The SFMoMA looks handsome as ever. You know it's a good sign when it keeps you there. Oh, and their education lounge is showing films about the artists work on display. It's not just for kids anymore, although I couldn't get the docents to fix the Jeff Wall artist talk video to save my life. Another story.
Well, later on, over at New Langton which I was fashionably late to, the Catherine Wagner photo was the piece to bid on. It was, coincidentally, an homage to Yves Klein. No, after, I didn't go the Avant Guardian party, or Kaila's birthday, or to see M.I.A. I had a quiet dinner at a German restaurant adorned with fantastic wreaths of dried flowers and caught up with a friend. Tomorrow night is Lucy McKenzie's opening, Friday at the SFMoMA. Her friend's boutique is part of the installation, so if you don't have anything to wear, well, you can just buy something off the rack. How cool is that?
