Guggenheim: theanyspacewhatever

Crazy things are happening over at the Guggenheim right now. Okay, maybe not as crazy as that time about five years ago when Matthew Barney took over the place, filled it with petroleum jelly, bizarre costumed characters, and esoteric film footage…but crazy nonetheless. In a similar vein, Chief Curator Nancy Spector invited ten artists to utilize the famous, spiral-shaped museum as an inspiration for one big, collaborative installation piece called, theanyspacewhatever.

The first thing you’ll notice if you check it out is that the entranceway currently has an illuminated overhang similar to an old theater. Standing under it, you feel the heat from all those light bulbs and you might also feel as if you’re in Hollywood, perhaps attending a premiere.

Once in the lobby, you’ll see a cartoon character facedown in a pool of water. Upon closer inspection, you’ll realize that it’s Pinnochio and you’ll be forced to consider whether it was homicide, or just plain clumsiness. I visited the exhibit with three friends: we wondered if his nose just grew so long that gravity took over. And the Sunday we were there, it happened to be “Fall Family Day” so the place was teeming with kids. As we climbed the rotunda, we noticed a few parents looking at the Pinnochio piece with their children and we were curious what they might be saying in explanation. Perhaps they were using this as a reinforcement of the fable? “See, you should never tell a lie.”

Next we came upon a room with video monitors on the floor and pillows set up in front of them. These are apparently showing a series of interviews of artists on the topic of art in the 1990’s by Rirkrit Tiravanija. Though there weren’t any monitors open, and we were forced to just pass on by, I was struck by how comfortable everyone looked in there, cozied up with their loved ones. One adult had fallen asleep curled onto her side and a child of about seven was also snoozing nearby. It really hit home the notion that for New Yorkers, with our laughably small apartments, the whole city really is our living room.

We had to pay attention: hanging above, along the Guggenheim’s iconically rounded path, we saw black signage written both right side-up and upside down, as if the text was a mirror of itself. And there are phrases painted on the walls in every direction. Things like: Take me; Forget facts and figures; Nothing will ever be the same; and There is something you should know. We noticed that the words, Someone is listening are even painted on the wall in the elevator and my friend mentioned that are also one of these phrases stenciled on the wall of the men’s room.

As you get higher, and look down (that is if you’re aren’t too chicken to peer over the edge, like one of my friends) you notice that the words, Are we evil are printed in the lobby’s floor. Though I am a “word” person, I agree with one of my friends, that all this text doesn’t really have much of an impact, individually or in sum. What I do think is rather interesting and would like to check out is how, on Friday nights, the entire exterior of the museum serves as a screen for a projection of phrases by Jenny Holtzer.
Eventually, we happened to gaze all the way up and saw that the oculus (the window in the ceiling of the Guggenheim that looks kind of like a spider web), is blackened and speckled with stars, as if perpetually night.

Perhaps the most spacially-interesting installation is also near the top of the building. It is a series of cardboard structures that break up the path like walls of a maze. These have holes cut out of them, not unlike Swiss cheese, and are speckled with abstract, somewhat frog-like shapes composed of varying materials. Hanging on these walls, there are also framed pieces from each of the artists involved in the exhibit. The overall effect is somewhat busy, slightly claustrophobic and, in my opinion, changes the feeling within the museum most significantly.

This is also the area where we overheard one of the best quotes of the day. A mother was saying to her child, “Nobody knows what it is, honey.” I overheard another great quote a few minutes later. A teenager said to her friends, “Should we swirl back down or just take the stairs?”

But my favorite part of this exhibition, hands down, is the work by Carsten Holler. He has created a revolving hotel room within the museum in which people can actually stay overnight – this is sold out but if you’d been quick enough to get a reservation, it would have put you back anywhere from $259-$799. (Of course, you can’t put a price on the opportunity to brag about staying all night at the Guggenheim. Oh, the blogging possibilities…) This hotel room revolves so slowly that you don’t realize it’s doing so until you get further away.

I also enjoyed Holler’s mesmerizing live video installation entitled, “Krutikow’s Flying City.” There is a camera revolving on the roof of the museum, capturing the surrounding cityscape with a set of ethereal, translucent structures spinning in the foreground. It is at once strange, beautiful, and playful. After observing it for a while, it disrupted my equilibrium slightly, but in a good way.

All of these installations provide ample food for thought but it would be remiss of me to not mention the other fantastic exhibit that’s going on at the Guggenheim right now: a mid-career survey of photographer Catherine Opie. It is nothing short of mind-boggling to witness how diverse her work is, as far as content and style. In one room, you can see her vaguely panoramic photos of buildings and her graceful, almost muted shots of highways, mostly the underbellies of large ramps and superstructures in L.A.. In another room, you see the transgendered and queer portraits that first brought her into prominence. And in yet another: domestic, more personal photos of her family, other lesbian families, and neighbors in Los Angeles.

But one room practically sent me into a trance. On one wall hangs rather minimalist photos of surfers waiting for the next wave. The mood is somber and the water has a milky, murky texture. On the opposite wall, there are similar photos, except these depict lakes in Minnesota where there are communities of icehouses, in other words, huts where icefishermen set up shop. There is something both haunting and incredibly serene about all these shots.

Though these photos have nothing to do with New York, they made me glad to live here, and glad to experience a sequence of such unusual splendors in one building. Kids were weaving all around me with crayons, and fellow museum-goers were bumping into me as they passed, but I temporarily felt as if I was the only one in the room. As we “swirled” back down, I was in a state of uncomparable calm. And you can’t achieve this in just anyspace…


Both of these exhibits last through January 7.