Gallery Crawl
Friday night the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust sponsored a "Gallery Crawl" for the downtown Gallery and visual arts events. For several hours that evening all kinds of galleries and spaces were open for art viewing and free wine (though one place I went had a cash bar--the nerve!). Similar to the First Friday events held in my sister's neighborhood, this proved to be an interesting mix of sophomoric efforts of younger artists and "outsider" types and more polished, more established artists. The crowds at these galleries were as we have come to expect of our local low-budget hipsters--lots of bad dye-jobs, funky glasses, and second-hand winter coats. I don't intend to sound mean, but it's like this is the uniform of the gallery gawker here. In New York, the look was similar, I guess, but glossier. Even if you couldn't afford Marc Jacobs, you tried to look like you did. And if your clothes were second hand, they looked vintage (preserved), not used. As someone who at one time was a deliberate dresser (classic business all the way) and is now an "Is it clean or at least not too smelly?" dresser, I enjoy considering the possible pre-meditation behind costume.
Anyway, Kate, Crispian, Myles, and I braved the cold for arts' sake. As always, it was worth it. Some of the galleries were too crowded for the stroller, and some of the art was too fragile for Myles to be trusted walking near it. At one gallery, 707 Penn, the art of two different artists was married for one exhibit called light and glass. One of the artists worked in glass--some very delicate vessels filled water--and the other as a light sculptor. The installation of the two together was brilliant. The colorless glass and water with the colored flourescent lights. I wondered a little bit about the "light sculptor" though. At the Mattress Factory there are some (I think-correct me if I am wrong) genre-defining light sculptures by James Turell, ones that if you saw them you would stop laughing when I refer to this form as sculpture.
This is a Turrell. It is light projected onto a regular corner of a room.
What I wonder is how hard is it to be not as sophisticated as this in Pittsburgh? But in the "Light and Glass" at 707 Penn, the two artists were combined fantastically.
Crispian loved the glass vessels in particular. HE can be trusted to get up close and see what they are all about.
The other gallery experience that was super cool with the kids was at the Wood Street Galleries. I believe-and I am probably wrong-that this is the premiere Downtown gallery, but it is also non-profit and non-commercial. At this time there are a few works by Amorphic Robot Works. This was the type of art that Crispian and Myles both can really sink their teeth into. Myles' favorite was Too Big Dog Monkey.
This thing is gigantic. I would wager that it is more powerful when it is allowed to be in motion. For the installation, it appeared to be like a decomissioned war machine, parked and silenced, though you can still see that with the mere turn of a key it is a mighty machine. Myles, permitted at last to wander at will, was completely absorbed by the wheels on the rear haunches. He circled them, touched them. He rubbed them, to assure to himself possibly that they were in fact round wheels, but no matter what he did to them they did not turn (thankfully).
All the while Myles and I were circling the legs of Too Big, Crispian and Kate were deep inside The Cave of the Subconsious. I didn't get to see too much of this part of the installation because Myles wasn't too into it. I did get Myles to notice a drum on the roof of the cave, which did elicit some giggles from him. Inside the cave (there are pictures on the Wood Street Page), Crispian was immersed in sights and sounds and creepy textures of the 20+ robots. The robots are supposed to respond to the people inside and their movements, so if I get a chance to get down there again, I will report on how this works.
The third piece, L'l Drummer, is also interactive. I think the piece we saw will not be the final form, only because it seems to be a last-minute addition (advance press for the show indicate a possible 'nother piece and this must be it) and there were some inputs it had difficulty "hearing." Like the Cave, the Drummer responds to people inputs. Clapping, your voice, and some stomping are picked up and mimiced with two percussive elements and a bowed string. At the end of the evening, while the gallery was closing and we were waiting for a turn on the elevator, Crispian played with the Drummer. He experimented with all sorts of clapping rhythms and sentences to see what he could get out of the drummer. The more he did this, the more Myles laughed at him. The more Myles laughed at him the more it fed Crispian's creativity of action. All the while, MacMurtie was watching Crispian closely, clearly fascinated with Crispian's degree of involvement with the Drummer.
I don't know why people are so surprised when children respond to art. Over at artsjournal.com and some other art blogs I've perused that have been linkes to artsjournal, there has been a lot of damning of parents who are so inconsiderate of art that they bring children. There are certainly situations and installations that it would be wise to keep a close hold on kids (like Myles wanting to get close to Light and Glass), and I do admit that sometimes it is difficult to see where you are going with the stroller, but you need to be extra careful in crowded situations so you don't run into the art (like MAY have damamged a Truitt at the MOMA). As an art-junkie, I love to think about art as the work of human thought and hands (or feet or whatever--you get my point), and art is meant to be experienced on a very personal level. No Baby Einstein DVD or flash cards are going to teach my son or any child what it means to RESPOND viscerally to the extraordinary.
Anyway, Kate, Crispian, Myles, and I braved the cold for arts' sake. As always, it was worth it. Some of the galleries were too crowded for the stroller, and some of the art was too fragile for Myles to be trusted walking near it. At one gallery, 707 Penn, the art of two different artists was married for one exhibit called light and glass. One of the artists worked in glass--some very delicate vessels filled water--and the other as a light sculptor. The installation of the two together was brilliant. The colorless glass and water with the colored flourescent lights. I wondered a little bit about the "light sculptor" though. At the Mattress Factory there are some (I think-correct me if I am wrong) genre-defining light sculptures by James Turell, ones that if you saw them you would stop laughing when I refer to this form as sculpture.
This is a Turrell. It is light projected onto a regular corner of a room.
What I wonder is how hard is it to be not as sophisticated as this in Pittsburgh? But in the "Light and Glass" at 707 Penn, the two artists were combined fantastically.
Crispian loved the glass vessels in particular. HE can be trusted to get up close and see what they are all about.
The other gallery experience that was super cool with the kids was at the Wood Street Galleries. I believe-and I am probably wrong-that this is the premiere Downtown gallery, but it is also non-profit and non-commercial. At this time there are a few works by Amorphic Robot Works. This was the type of art that Crispian and Myles both can really sink their teeth into. Myles' favorite was Too Big Dog Monkey.
This thing is gigantic. I would wager that it is more powerful when it is allowed to be in motion. For the installation, it appeared to be like a decomissioned war machine, parked and silenced, though you can still see that with the mere turn of a key it is a mighty machine. Myles, permitted at last to wander at will, was completely absorbed by the wheels on the rear haunches. He circled them, touched them. He rubbed them, to assure to himself possibly that they were in fact round wheels, but no matter what he did to them they did not turn (thankfully).
All the while Myles and I were circling the legs of Too Big, Crispian and Kate were deep inside The Cave of the Subconsious. I didn't get to see too much of this part of the installation because Myles wasn't too into it. I did get Myles to notice a drum on the roof of the cave, which did elicit some giggles from him. Inside the cave (there are pictures on the Wood Street Page), Crispian was immersed in sights and sounds and creepy textures of the 20+ robots. The robots are supposed to respond to the people inside and their movements, so if I get a chance to get down there again, I will report on how this works.
The third piece, L'l Drummer, is also interactive. I think the piece we saw will not be the final form, only because it seems to be a last-minute addition (advance press for the show indicate a possible 'nother piece and this must be it) and there were some inputs it had difficulty "hearing." Like the Cave, the Drummer responds to people inputs. Clapping, your voice, and some stomping are picked up and mimiced with two percussive elements and a bowed string. At the end of the evening, while the gallery was closing and we were waiting for a turn on the elevator, Crispian played with the Drummer. He experimented with all sorts of clapping rhythms and sentences to see what he could get out of the drummer. The more he did this, the more Myles laughed at him. The more Myles laughed at him the more it fed Crispian's creativity of action. All the while, MacMurtie was watching Crispian closely, clearly fascinated with Crispian's degree of involvement with the Drummer.
I don't know why people are so surprised when children respond to art. Over at artsjournal.com and some other art blogs I've perused that have been linkes to artsjournal, there has been a lot of damning of parents who are so inconsiderate of art that they bring children. There are certainly situations and installations that it would be wise to keep a close hold on kids (like Myles wanting to get close to Light and Glass), and I do admit that sometimes it is difficult to see where you are going with the stroller, but you need to be extra careful in crowded situations so you don't run into the art (like MAY have damamged a Truitt at the MOMA). As an art-junkie, I love to think about art as the work of human thought and hands (or feet or whatever--you get my point), and art is meant to be experienced on a very personal level. No Baby Einstein DVD or flash cards are going to teach my son or any child what it means to RESPOND viscerally to the extraordinary.
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