You call that art?

Enjoying life on a budget, I'm pretty good at finding free or nearly free things to do/eat/see. It's like being an art student again when my friends and I would go to every art reception within walking distance for 'dinner,' order McD happy meals without shame, and make large coffees last all day. I once made dinner for a friend of mine while working on a project together, beef and vegetable stir fry, salad, and berries and cream for dessert. I thought he was just being gracious when he kept thanking me over and over again, - wow, I'm a better cook than I thought! - but I found out later he'd been living off nothing but white bread for weeks, with maybe a squirt of mustard here and there. Not that he didn't have money. He, like the rest of us, just spent it on art supplies.

So when the SF MOMA opened it's new rooftop garden recently, and let visitors see it for free (normally it's $13 to get in), L. and I were there. I like how some forms of modern art challenge my classically trained assumptions and expectations. They are like Rorschach tests, revealing more about myself than the creator. Maybe that's the point. Maybe not and I still have to learn a new art vocabulary. So I try to look without reacting (oh come on! You call that art? My two year old niece can do that!). I try, but don't always succeed...

Look at those people touching that painting! Stop it, people! That's a priceless ugly painting!

Test: do you see a bunch of loyal dogs protecting a cute baby? Or do you see a creepy ring of dogs ominously surrounding a helpless baby? I admit I saw the latter. I see dogs preventing me from getting close to a baby for no good reason. Would a man react the same way? What compulsion, I wonder, drove the artist to create this? Why are the dogs all the same? Does the black and white mean anything? Definitely not living room art. Neither is this. Yikes! Imagine stumbling into your kitchen in the middle of the night and catching a glimpse of this on your wall.

I like this kid (and the painting behind him). I bet his father made him pose in front of every work of art in the museum. Along with every famous landmark in the city. That's what I would do. Hmmm...colorful, messy, interesting,...an allegory on the wonderful uncertainty of life? I walked by here twice before noticing these boxes. When I did I felt frustrated and annoyed. I wanted to move them around, jiggle them to see if there was anything inside. I also felt hope. Hey, if these boring boxes can make it into the MOMA then, darn it!, my work can too!

The rooftop garden, seen through glass.Models of brains. Stacked high. Makes me feel....nothing. Well, actually the words fragile, balanced, divided and precarious come to mind. Ha!

Pink, gauzy thing. With guard making sure no one touches it. I thought this was pretty, but pointless. Or maybe its point was lost on me because I just wondered how they kept it clean, and how long an artwork made from this material could last. Maybe, because most art is placed on walls or in corners, the point is to experience a work of art, a fragile one at that, which a person has to navigate around. Maybe not.

I'll end with my niece, Vivienne, a few months ago, at the Hirschorn. I was only half kidding when I said I'd make a kid of mine pose in front of every work of art in a museum, poor kid. At least I rewarded her with a lollipop afterwards.