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FeedAn Old New Way To See Art AND Artists Who Use Text To Say Nice Things
Mickey Smith
PERCEPTION, 2008
There was something abundantly more to Peggy Guggenheim and Holly Solomon than their eccentricities, proclivities, business sense and style. They knew that viewing and showing art in a comfortable place where folks could relax, lounge and thrash out what they were seeing could be good for the soul. They also knew good art and had a sense for discovering / championing fresh talent. Guggenheim = Pollack. Solomon = Mapplethorpe.
Like the Salon’s of Paris, Venice, and New York of another era, Curators are blossoming in this age of joblessness and uncertainty. What’s more curious -- and ever so different -- is that it’s happening in people’s apartments, lofts, and homes, and these aren’t folks with loads of cash. They are one-shot openings, long-running/rotating (Parlour Door, Apartment Show) shows in modest digs where kids and adults are digging on art. Sometimes the art is for sale. Sometimes the venue is just a thinly veiled excuse to drink or cruise in a new scene. But, usually not.
Several months ago I attended an apartment Salon one afternoon. It was a two-day show on the lower east side of Manhattan put up by an artist-friend-turned-temporary-curator, Aaron Krach (aaronkrach.com). He’s a superb artist in his own right, but decided to empty out his two bedroom apartment and throw most of his possessions into his spare room so he could not put any of his own art in the show. . .again, in his apartment on the lower east side of Manhattan. He spent weeks pulling together works from 25 artists from across the country. Phone calls were made. Art was mailed and the project was managed to the nines all while doing his full time job. His walls were cleared off and other people’s art was hung. Why? Take it away Aaron . . .
“Sushi On The Upper West Side” by Aaron Krach
It’s Yoko’s fault. After seeing her give a lecture at the Guggenheim last winter, I went to eat sushi on the Upper West Side. On stage, Yoko Ono danced with a chair. She mumbled and played a video. She broke a huge blue-and-white vase and gave a shard to everyone in the audience. Two performers in black bags rolled around on the floor like black holes or couch potatoes. Yoko turned a flashlight on and off.
This last behavior made her visibly happy. She smiled again and again.
On, off. On, off. On. Yes, certainly. Yes.
“Yes” is Yoko’s word. It’s the name of her retrospective that toured the world. It’s the name for her life’s work and it is also a singular piece, written on posters, stamped on the wall, spoken.
“Yes” is also a word we use everyday. And so we perform a Yoko Ono piece every time we say “yes.” We live art though words. Crazy, and cool.
She is a powerful woman, Ms. Ono. The way she transformed language into art back into our everyday life? She did it at no cost. No harm, no foul. Just poetry and affirmation.
While eating sushi I realized something. Art that doesn’t make me smile, even just a little bit on the inside, isn’t working. If art isn’t crazy and magical, then what is the point? If it isn't generous and thoughtful and positive, then why?
It all comes back to being good. Everything should be as simple and nice as Yoko's "Yes". She survived a lot. Japan during World War II, John Lennon’s murder, and yet she’s painfully nice. I interviewed her years ago about her music. I approached the meeting with fear and insecurity. She gave me a book, sent me a thank you note. She couldn’t have been nicer.
I know, I know. That word... "nice". It sounds so lame. So indistinct. Well, I disagree.
So that night over spicy tuna rolls and Sapporo with Reed Seifer (in the show), I decided to curate an exhibition that would capture a similar feeling of generosity and selflessness. I wanted a show that features art that makes people feel better. No satire or irony or jokey puns allowed. Only pure pleasure and goodness. Uplift. Like therapy without the co-pay.
The artists in this show are very special. They fill their drawings and paintings and sculpture with kindness and a sense of giving. I am sure they approach their lives the same way. I know that spending time with their work has filled me with pleasure. It has made me smile. It has changed my life.
aaronkrach.com/artists-who-use-text-to-say-nice-things
Now – what if high school or college art students or even the housewives in suburban America brushed off their BA in Art and curated an art show? Aren’t you all complaining about how bored and unfulfilled you are? I guess I’d encourage you to fall in love with art. Move the couches. Take your stuff off the walls and tables. Make some phone calls and get your mail carrier moving. Take a page out of Peggy Guggenheim and Holly Solomon’s book and champion art. Do something that would be good for someone’s soul. Make ‘em smile.
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