Cultural Spelunking

After a harrowing day yesterday, I felt that fortune had smiled upon me when I found myself miraculously free and in my own neighborhood by 7 pm. Being that Thursday nights from 7-9 just happen to be free admittance, I decided to scope out the provocatively titled “Younger Than Jesus” exhibit at the New Museum. “It will be so cool,” I thought of the uniquely, attention-demanding museum which decorates the Bowery. Every time have I walked to work and passed it in the last couple of weeks I have given it a mental high five, like, “Hey you, can’t wait to come for a visit. For free. Some Thursday soon.”

My time had come and I was drawn in by the Urban Outfitters of Museums.

Image courtesy of the New Museum

Look at it, all “not fitting into the aesthetic of the surrounding neighborhood but in a cool way,” with architecture that smacks like gentrification on cocaine. I was pumped. Ready for a cultural espresso shot to a busy day.

Now, I try not to make general, sweeping statements, like: “the hipster art world can take its vague and hyper sexualized art and stick it up its ironic ass,” or “that looks like the contents of a goodwill bin, strewn across a table.” They are unprofessional (and I take professionalism seriously when it comes to sounding like I know what the hell I am talking about) and pigeon hole the entire exhibit.

Amongst the collections of “50 artists under 33″ (hence the “Younger Than Jesus”) some of the work was good. Some of it made me stop and consider a question, new or old, and think of it in a fresh aesthetic vocabulary. A prominently displayed photograph by artist Shilpa Gupta literally stopped me in my tracks, and the ink blot-like paintings and collages by Josh Smith were fantastic. The mission statement of the exhibit is to “[tap] into the different perspectives, shared preoccupations, and experiences of a constituency that is shaping the contemporary art discourse and prescribing the future of global culture.” (Check out the New Museum site for the full write up). This is an ambitious undertaking, and with a mix of artists from many different countries and a huge mix of media, “Younger Than Jesus” certainly takes a whack at it. However, I was not sufficiently moved to think it a success in this lofty aim.

Much of it was interactive. Some of it was like spending a pleasant day with a crazy old person, perhaps a Great Aunt suffering from Dementia, or like rummaging through your grandparents attic and finding old movies or drawings. On the flip side some of it seemed purposefully vague to the point of seeming either pretentious or just odd. Overall the preoccupations of the artists seemed minimally related (and the explanation of the exhibit does identify that a big trend of this young artist demographic is diversity) and in the end I was just not convinced that the exhibit could only be about artists under 33 or was  exclusive to them in a truly meaningful way.

I do give the New Museum props for hyping young artists, and this exhibit does further the overall goal of the museum, to keep new movements in modern art cycling through its door and into the public eye. Still, I found “Younger Than Jesus” underwhelming in quality and overwhelming in American Apparel-esque hipsterism, which clearly I consider condemning.

Found on Tres Sugar under "assthetic"

Last night, I left the building with many scathing observations and witty associations about individual collections and pieces, which I found particularly meaningless/obvious/pretentious, about how new artists think Americans are shocked by sex enough to ignore substance, etc. However, I feel like the ultimate criticism is that this morning, I cannot remember any of them. Or the work they were about. Usually, when I find a new cultural cupcake to think about, it is like a little swarm of bees inside my head, distracting and energetic and engrossing. Thus far my experience with the New Museum was kind of like sitting down to a nice Italian dinner and instead being slapped in the face with wet spaghetti: I can’t even explain why that metaphor makes sense, but it is exactly how I feel about it.

I cannot ignore my own agency in this situation. Really, New Museum, it’s not you, its me. It was in fact, only my own fault that I let my expectations rise irrationally high about our future romance. I was taken in by your cool facade, your proximity to my new place, and your fun rainbow Hell, Yes! I should have appreciated you for what you are, and not what I made you out to be. And for god’s sake, anyone who can willfully ignore the implications of an ad line exhibit name like “Younger Than Jesus,” deserves what they get. So, New Museum, while I kind of think you ridiculous, I also think we have reached a more honest place in our relationship.

I hope we can still be friends.