How Bad Is It?

Where: Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden

When: closing September 16, 2018

I read a really scathing review of the Georg Baselitz career retrospective in the Washington Post recently, and when I say really scathing I mean the title included the phrase "overrated hack."  So, rather than approaching this show with my usual fear and loathing, I went to the Hirshhorn looking forward to seeing just how bad this would be.

And it is bad.  Everything is ugly, like Tolstoy's unhappy families, each in its own way.  Those worm headed people in the photograph are what greet you at the door - not my definition of an inviting introduction.

But have no fear, if you don't like this, there's lots of different types of things to follow.  Unfortunately, they're all just tiresome nonsense.  Usually, even in a show I don't care for, there's one thing that I think isn't too awful.  Not so here!  Give the man points for consistency.

The best thing I can say for Baselitz is that, unlike my least favorite artist, Yves Klein, he doesn't sell people gold ingots to throw in the Seine.  I realize that's damning with faint praise, but it's the only praise I have.

According to the wall notes, Baselitz is one of the leading artistic figures of post-WWII Germany.  Poor Germany, if that's the case.  The land of Albrecht Durer is reduced to this?  One shakes one's head in sorrow and pity.  Another wall note tells me that Baselitz was influenced by Mannerist painting, which explains a lot.  Of all the artistic genres to leave by the wayside, Mannerism ranks high on my list.

At one point, he decided to create upside down portraits.  So you have paintings that appear to be straightforward pictures of people, except they're all upside down.  It makes it hard to really look at them, because you're trying to put them right side up in your mind.  My question: does he paint them upside down (which is what I assume he's doing, as there was a quote from him saying how hard it was to get the right perspective), or does he really paint them right side up and then insist they be hung upside down?

Not content to make ugly paintings, he branched out into sculpture.  At least it's not upside down.  The show ends with a piece that is meant to be some sort of homage to Andy Warhol.  It appears to be gigantic wooden legs in high heeled shoes, painted black and tied together at the top.  I'm no Warhol expert, but I can't imagine he would be happy to have something so ugly associated with him.

Verdict: Go for the upside down paintings; stay for the ugly sculpture.  Or don't go at all.

Guillermo Kuitca: Everything—Paintings and Works on Paper, 1980–2008

Where: Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden

When: until January 16, 2011

As I mentioned in my last post, 'tis the season for Argentine art in DC museums. This show of Kuitca works makes a nice contrast to the show at the Ripley that I reviewed a couple of weeks ago. Rather than featuring one or two works of many artists, this show has, as its name suggests, everything by Guillermo Kuitca. It's an enormous show; every time you think you must be at the end, there's another room full of art to see. I was unfamiliar with Kuitca before I saw this show, so I was glad to see so much of his work - I feel like I know him now!

Terminal, the picture above, is the first work I saw upon entering the exhibit. It's so realistic, I stood there, expecting my bags to appear. The painting was completed in 2001, so recent changes in airport security, luggage pricing and the general mood of exasperation surrounding air travel are not reflected in this piece, but I read all of that and more in this work. Perhaps that's a definition of great art; that it continues to speak to people who see in it a commentary on events that have transpired after it was created.

Kuitca uses floor plans in his work extensively; I enjoyed looking at them, as I love examining floor plans. I always imagine where I would put furniture in the various rooms, how the people living in the house would move around, and where they would store their belongings. One of his floor plans he entitled "Childhood of Christ." I can make no sense out of the title, but I like the work.

The items which moved me the most were the maps painted on mattresses. I think the idea is that the mattress is the most intimate of locations, but road maps are general and public, with no particular meaning for the viewer. My experience, however, was completely different. One of the mattress maps was of northern Minnesota, and featured Crookston, Bemidji and Park Rapids, all places where my family members have lived. What a shock to see these small (and to anyone else meaningless) towns featured in a major modern art exhibit!

Finally, Kuitca also creates architectural plans, including The Tablada Suite. The patience necessary to draw every seat in an entire stadium is mind-boggling.

Verdict: By all means, see this show. It's quite large, but you could skim through it fairly quickly, if you looked at one or two pieces in each room.

Colorforms

Where: Hirshhorn Museum

When: through January 2, 2011

I always learn something when I go to an exhibit, and my trip to Colorforms was no exception. I'm not sure that this was the impression the Hirshhorn wanted to make on visitors, but I was left with a distinct appreciation for the art of setting up a museum exhibit.

I suspect that if you set up an exhibit really well, no one notices. I know I've been to over 100 exhibits in the past year, and I've never given a thought to how it was organized. Why were some pictures put together? Why were a specific number of paintings put in one room and other paintings put in another? How do you light an exhibit for maximum effect?

The reason I bring up these issues is that the Colorforms exhibit is the most oddly organized show I've seen. It seemed as if I was walking forever to get through it all - only a few paintings in any one room, and so much white space as backdrop. I'm a great walker, so the fact that I had to walk was not a problem. It just seems that the show was so spread out, I couldn't connect one group of works with another.

The first room featured some pieces by Larry Poons, which I thought would make excellent wrapping paper - I must check the gift shop on my next trip to the Hirshhorn. The second room featured an installation by Fred Sandback that involved yarn strung between the ceiling and the floor. Not sure if this goes in the "not art" category; I certainly could do it, but I know I wouldn't, so perhaps it is art.

There was an installation that was listed as being in "low light." If this is what the Hirshhorn thinks is low light, I'd hate to see what they think is total darkness. I literally could not see my hand in front of my face, and was bumping into walls on my way to the piece. Finally, a guard told me I was in the wrong spot (a booming disembodied voice - made me jump), and I stumbled out. Couldn't tell you what that was supposed to be.

Finally, there was an installation involving hazelnut pollen scattered on the floor. I'll grant you, it's a lovely yellow color, but I'm not sure it's art if you can scrape it off your car in the springtime.

Verdict: Lower your expectations for this show, and if you manage to see what was at the end of the long dark corridor - let me know!