I never admitted that to my classmates. Artists always declare that art MUST be seen in real life to be truly appreciated. I, on the other hand, feel that it's good to see art in real life especially because the scale gets lost in textbooks, but that it's not a life or death matter.
Still, I have come to the conclusion that that there is one key element that makes seeing the real thing necessary: movement.
This conclusion came after seeing
- Bill Viola's Ocean Without A Shore at the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne
- Anthony McCall's You and I, Horizontal II, at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image
- Kangaroos, echidnas and wombats at the Australia Zoo near Brisbane.
I had a bit of a mental freakout when I chanced upon Anthony McCall's You and I, Horizontal II. I had written about one of his "solid light films" for an art history class which made finding this piece in an exhibition about film and movies (rather than an art museum) all the more exhilarating.
Basically, the artwork is a projection of shifting lines and curves of white light through fog/smoke/haze in an otherwise pitch black room. You can change the art without changing its base by interacting with the smoke and light at various points: fanning the smoke to watch it swirl in the light; blocking the light path at various points to see long thin shadows stretch to the opposite wall; or standing at different points and heights to get varied immersions. Or you can just sit in a corner and watch it uninterrupted.
At certain points I felt like I was underwater. At another point, a horizontal beam of light moved slowly down to my neck and I held my breath as if it was about to choke me. When the light described a curl, I stood in the middle and felt like a surfer within the curl of a massive wave. Seeing this after Bill Viola's Ocean Without a Shore meant that I couldn't help but make connections with light, water, life and death.
It was beautiful and absolutely fascinating.
My words are painfully lacking for describing the experience. And even though I said that images can't capture the experience, especially with something that requires you to be wholly immersed in a 360° environment, these images (click!) will at least give you a better idea of what I'm talking about.
The movement of these works and the fact that they unfold within time means that you truly miss out if you don't experience the real thing.
As for the animals? You just need to see a kangaroo hopping very slowly, a wombat executing a startled 180° jump and turn, or an echidna waddling around in its hilarious spiny glory to appreciate the fact that images can never do the wonkiness of these Australian creatures justice.
2 comments:
Anthony's work sounds absolutely amazing! I think I've had some pretty amazing experiences with art where the reproductions did no justice for the real thing...never really cared for Monet till I was standing in front of his work. I think Rothko can't be seen with reproductions. One of my professors said that Rothko's work has an acoustical quality to the work. You can almost "hear" the work when you see it. I'm not sure if I've ever had an acoustical experience with Rothko but I've definitely felt it become 3-dimensional which kinda gets acoustical in a way. The painting somehow creates "space". Judd's boxes also have to be seen in person but I think that goes into your thought of having "movement" since watching those metal boxes morph with the movement of the sunlight is truely a magical experience. Then there are those paintings that I feel actually look better in the art books...those are always dissapointing....espcially when you think you really like an artist until you see the real thing. Oh yea, architecture should always be seen in person. In those cases photographs generally always lie. Ok, I'll shut up now.
See now you've made me want to go find a Monet so I can stand in front of it and give it another chance. Same for Rothko. I think I just need to visit an art museum or gallery asap!
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