Amygdala project (2010-)

Started in 2010, I wanted to challenge the viewer with a series of images that blends the modern visualizations of sex with deep-routed fears: mental illness, incapacitation, cancer, etc. The first project utilized thermoplastic and latex to illustrate a pin-up glam model simultaneously undressing and undergoing an aggressive ductal carcinoma. As the images and poses become more suggestive, the spreading cancer ramps up it's aggression. The make-up enhancements grow to an exaggerated degree as an attempt to hide the inevitable. I plan on doing several more in the set, through 2014 and 2015. Here is the first set, finished in 2011.

Realism, Schmealism: Magritte's Destruction of the Real in one Un-smokable Piece.

The Treachery of Images Rene Magritte. 1929. Oil on Canvas. Work currently at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I had the pleasure in 2007 to visit LACMA during the incredible Magritte show, "Magritte and Contemporary Art: the Treachery of Images." Works by Johns, Celmins, Gober, Baldessari, Ruscha, Artschwager, Kosuth, and Broodthaers were mixed with classical Magritte, and really fleshed out the influence the Belgian in the bowler hat has had. I spent hours here, but much of my time was spent really enjoying his signature work. It's not a big one. The colors are rather plain, and despite Baldessari's excellent design of the exhibit, could have been easily overlooked. However, once you see it, it's surprisingly challenging over eighty years after it was first shown. Your immediate reaction, regardless any art education you have received, is to argue against the key point. Of course it's a pipe! It was a visceral, snap reaction I had despite writing a few briefs on Magritte before. You can't avoid it. Artists often launch into wordy, meandering defenses of their work when it faces a challenge or criticism. Magritte had perhaps the best: "Of course it's not a pipe, just try to fill it with tobacco!" The antagonist's reaction to Magrittes defense was, I imagine, a lot of sputtering, perhaps cursing. But in one fell swoop with this image, the concept of representation has been pushed to collapse. It is a painting. Nothing more, nothing less. A painting of an object is not the object. Since that long-held-notion of "representation" is shattered, one can relabel what one creates regardless what it "looks like". This decoupling of real object vs "represented" object has far-flung consequences, if you think about it. How much legalese and advertising today is based on this principle of direct disassociation? The surrealists represented the first long-term movement following the disastrous Great War. The disconnection of projected truth (what is printed or shown) from reality was made clear throughout World War One, particularly for a younger generation who saw the enormous carnage at the front line yet, when injured and sent home, would see a totally whitewashed press convinced of a "victory" that simply wasn't materializing. Our own politicians continue with this. Hell, they couldn't survive, particularly today, without a total disconnect from fact in favor of a glorious projection. But my political views aside, Magritte's image is "meta" in every sense of the word. With one simple image and a seemingly contradictory statement, he burned down thousands of years of implied wisdom in the desire to depict the real: the artist cannot create reality. Some can come tantalizingly close, some come through in ways we don't immediately accept (the cubists), and some just say "fuck it."

Old notes at AOS about Duchamp

Another old bit from Ace of Spades, comments about Duchamp ...

After the First World War, allegiances to many of the artistic traditions that had survived the challenges of cubism, expressionism, impressionism, fauvism and pure abstraction were shattered by a disillusioned, cynical generation of artists who inadvertently predicted much of what makes art "suck" in the eyes of today's majority. The most brilliant of these was Marcel Duchamp, whose horny woman-and-gay da Vinci two-for-one joke LHOOQ was blogged about here earlier:

Fountain, 1917. (photo from 1917 exhibition) Porcelain Urinal. 

Original lost, replicas at various institutions. 

Funny thing is, I have had morons comment on this piece in multiple threads, and they actually sum it up well:

Duchamp ushered in modern art by establishing the idea of "ready made" art, which fit nicely with new developments in mass manufacturing, and it was an asshole, curmudgeonly comment on the modern age, anticipating the beatniks by several decades. He was a typical French misanthrope who stated that art has nothing to do with the artist once it's on display. The viewer gets to decide whether it's art, and they can "piss off." There was always punk. 

Posted by: Tattoo De Plane

That's the idea. Or half the idea. Duchamp was the original "Art is whatever crap I put my name (or someone else's) on" guy. So when he did it, it was funny. It worked like a Don Rickles joke. If you're an art-world dink who thinks you're in on Duchamp's joke, and you're like "He's doing me! I'm in the show!" you can laugh and have a good time when he says you look like a drunk Mexican gorilla, but it's funny because you look like a drunk Mexican gorilla. 

Posted by: oblig.

Here's a thought on the Duchamp: In the novel Infinite Jest, one of the characters, a filmmaker, pulls a huge hoax on the art world. He comes up with a concept called "found drama". Basically it goes like this: You pick a name out of the phone book, and whatever that person does for the next two hours is the "drama". You don't have to know what they actually do. Just the act of designating the person is the "art". It makes a big splash in the art world, until he reveals that it's all bullshit, at which point everybody gets pissed at him. That's pretty much how I feel about "Fountain" (only Duchamp never let the cat out of the bag). 

Posted by: Farmer Joe

When Marcel Duchamp created "Fountain" in 1917 under the pseudonym "R. Mutt" as part of his "readymades", he was making a deliberate swipe at Western mainstream "fine art" traditions of elevating anything to art simply by setting it on a pedestal. Apparently, modern "artists" never quite got the joke. Posted by: The Ghost of Flannery O'Connor 

To all of the morons who had commented on it in the original threads, I will add just a bit more. Duchamp was being profound by pushing the ever-expanding boundaries of art to its inevitable conclusion- one in which the actual ability or skill of the artist is deemed irrelevant by the simple pronouncement of a given "work" as art. He geniunely believed that the declaration of art, and an audience, mattered as much if not more than the artist or his actual work. In the hands of tongue-in-cheek Duchamp, this idea is both thoughtful and comical- we can take the proposition seriously, but simultaneously laugh at its implications humorously expressed. As for the copycats and the beatniks whose "art" erronously shove themselves onto the Duchampian family tree, I simply give you Salvador Dali's reaction to them:

The first person to compare the cheeks of a young woman with a rose was plainly a poet. The second, who repeated the comparison, was probably an idiot...People have already forgotten that the founder of Dadaism, Tristan Tzara, stated in his mannifesto in the very infancy of the movements: "Dada is this, Dada is that...Either way, it's crap." This kind of more or less black humour is foreign to the new generation. They are genuinely convinced that their neo-Dadaism is subtler than the art of Praxiteles.

Levitated Mass (from AOSHQ)

This was posted over at Ace of Spades back in June of 2012, and since it's about my favorite public artwork, I'm cross-posting it here. After posting yesterday, I decided to overcome my usual resistance to visit an exhibit or piece on opening day, just to further spite those of you angry at a rock being called art. Full disclosure: part of my hyping this has been a reaction to the absurdity of this on paper. The sheer cost and energy put into creating this work went beyond any adjective I can summon without grinning, though as a conservative I find it refreshing how this came to be: artist Michael Heizer found a way to get his 40-year vision off paper and, with $10 million all privately raised, onto Miracle Mile. I thought about what I would probably write, whilst making Mrs CAC her Starbucks Surprise (grain alcohol and ginger ale in a Starbucks cup for the long drive). I was probably going to focus on the positives of minimalism, on the hype, on a hundred things I didn't. Yesterday was perfect: high 70s, light breeze, and a waxing crescent moon suspended in the bright blue California sky. You couldn't ask for better weather while enjoying outdoor sculpture. Or when having an epiphany. Passing Wilshire, the plaza came into full view, along with the crowd. Surprise, even at 5:30 there were still hundreds milling about the campus. If you decide to make the trip, it is free: just enter the park entrance on 6th street and walk towards the Big Fucking Rock. You really can't miss it. Even if the ranting street lunatics try to distract you on Fairfax. Once inside the plaza the gigantic rock is hard to miss: I seriously could not wait. I had to see it, even if the crowd of people, bicycles and dogs gathered inside and around was a bit distracting. Fun note on the dogs- while people casually streamed into the sculpture and under SMOD Jr, dogs, whether big or small, would go batshit, barking at the giant stone and making a hilarious scene. The moment where the huge mass begins to block out the sun, something interesting happens. The people staring up and walking under all stop, right at that point. Some even walk back a bit unnerved. There is something about having the normal (sunny day) obscured by the abnormal and challenging that triggers something odd in people. Call it a "this may be a stupid idea" reflex. The "maybe the panicked dog has a point" idea. I walked down the channel and under the stone snapping a good pile of images with the blackberry before I decided to just "experience" the work: Re-approaching from the Western end, the first thing I noticed were the long shadows cast down from the deep channel and rock. It creates an effect photography can't really capture, it's purely psychological: the buttresses "supporting" the rock actually appear to shrink as you approach it. The mass itself seems to be just sitting there, and its odd edges give an illusion of movement. It appears, temporarily, to be hovering over your head. The supports themselves are obvious if you are look for them, but as I was taking in the giganto-fuck-normous boulder above me, searching around for a hint of the sky, they seemed trite and tiny. One of two measly buttresses supporting the 680,000 lb stone Shape of the channel also throws off perspective for size. Rock looks monstrous over the people shadowed underneath Why? Why was this done? What was he seeing in the desert in the 1960s when he thought this project up? Why here, in an urban landscape? Snarky answers aside, I was determined to figure it out. The boulder was moved over a hundred miles on a massive rig and dropped over a concrete channel. The rock was secured in place with bolts and buttresses but appears to be just resting there precariously. When the Big One finally hits, it will likely levitate a lot less. As I'm staring at the rock above me, contemplating the why, I get distracted with the usual troubles in my mind. Debt. More debt with the wedding coming up. My father-in-law's fight with Alzheimers. Bigger problems start racing through my mind- the recession, the upcoming election, etc. The stress of the last few years has weighed on a lot of people. Getting annoyed I'm being mentally derailed while starting at granite, I began to move up the channel, out and away. Actual moment of epiphany while wearing a stupid hat That's it. Man has always been in awe of nature and natural forces. We seem so small compared to the bigness of everything around us. As an amateur astronomer, staring out at the Whirlpool Galaxy really brings things down to size. We can be overwhelmed by the massiveness of things we encounter and experience, but we have this sensation because unlike the rest of creation we are aware of ourselves. We have thought, and as such can make our own choices independent of what the rest of our surroundings may intend. The work is there to challenge you. The mass, dangling over you, a reminder of the countless aspects of our lives we seem to have little control over. The implication of being squished brings to mind the greatest one: death. Not a lot of choices right there in that gigantic hulking mass of indifferent nothing. But the channel is the real key to the work being successful. We move downwards to encounter the mass, to challenge it. Unlike the gigantic boulder, we can keep moving. We make the conscious choice to engage the things we may often find overwhelming. We also have the choice to beat them back and emerge with a greater sense of ourselves. The rock harkens back to the millenia-long use of stone to symbolize the eternal. I thought the press releases mentioning this were pure quackery, but it is dead right. The rock symbolizes everything we encounter that may intimidate us but which we choose to approach and deal with anyway. The Man V Nature narrative is often the David V Goliath of conflict stories. Storms, earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanoes, swarms etc all spell out a battle that seem to imply poor odds for us. But since we have conscious thought, man can, if he chooses, have the upper hand against most things. In man's conquest of his surroundings and in his personal battles, we have choices, especially when we break down what is challenging us. Their massiveness is often an illusion, the threat less grave when we actually face them. The 340 ton granite and gravity would love to squash you like a bug, but (for now), it can't. It just sits there. Less awe-inducing, and more pitiful, as visitors pose for cameras, a guy dressed like Jesus staggers around it (seriously, you had to be there), and crap art critics bloviate from under it. So long, Sweet Megalith Of Death Final verdict: definitely worth the trip. Beer helps too.

Hans Haacke, Institutional Criticism, and the NEA

A Breed Apart. 1978- Photographs on paper lain on hardboard.


Hans Haacke is by far my favorite conceptual artist. He is also my favorite institutional critic.

While I said a main purpose of my blog is to present a more libertarian/conservative perspective and appreciation for art, I also feel that great works that cant really yield that sort of interpretation still need a good examination and exploration. Anyone can do political pictures and Tshirts. Anyone can yell on a TV screen. It takes great amount of skill...a true artist, to transcend ideology with basic moral truths and whos questions raised demand real answers from all involved. Experiencing an exhibit of Haacke is like getting walloped in the face, then yearning for more only to be happily rewarded- its blatant and quiet. Simple and powerful.

Few artists today with a sociopolitic-critical initiative can rival Haacke, and three examples follow.

When wandering about at the Whitney Biennial in 2006, I noticed something on the pamphlet I was reading: "Altria Group, Inc. is proud to continue its forty year relationship with the Whitney Museum of American Art by sponsoring the 2006 Biennial exhibition." Hm. Altria Group. The name sounded new, and as an evil capitalist I was surprised I did not recognize the corporate name. So, straight to Google. Turns out Altria Group is the new corporate name for the good ole Phillip Morris gang. The very same PM that sponsored a Picasso exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, which we will get to soon.

It struck me as odd, almost hypocritical, that so many artists at that Biennial submitted work chastizing the Iraq War. Yes, artists as a collective group have hated war ever since the First World War shattered the more ideal amongst them's concept of the triumph of the machine age. But there were a few pieces critical of the corporate connection. No Blood for Oil, I recall. Implying basically that we are going there to make Bush's oil buddies rich. Artists ranting about corporations. Nothing new there.

But what is disturbing to me is how the puppet show plays out with artists today. There is a dance of sorts where outright rebellion and protest against certain big corporations or other large entitities is rampant, yet the checks still gladly roll in from others. Recall the NEA recently was caught with embarassment over a memo that seemed to imply that artists whose work helped support the Presidents initiatives would be favored for grants. The head of the NEA was adamant that wasn't the case, but admitted the memo was embarassing and too vague. Whenever you mix art with government, art with private collectors, or art with corporations, you begin to set up silent limitations for yourself. More on the NEA later.

The obvious and scary relationship between corporate/government entities and the artist raises many questions. What is still acceptable? Is the business or federal agency using the artist for an agenda other than artistic promotion and advancement? What is the motive, the goal, of a group of businessmen in hiring an artist or sponsoring an exhibit? One would think yeah, the tax writeoff is pretty sweet...but if it was an issue of taxes, certainly more cash would flow into the museums from the various corporate entities. The legitimate question of wether an artist has true creative control over his endeavors when funded by a larger group with its own interests must be asked, and answered.

MOMA-Poll. 1970. Plexiglass, paper, printed ink.

Hans Haacke has explored this concept, quite succesfully, starting in the 1970s. One item of interest from 1970, MOMA-Poll, he posed the question to museum goers: whether then-Governor Rockefeller's lack of rejecting Nixon's Indochina policy was grounds for voting against him in the upcoming election. There were two plexiglass enclosures one could drop your answer into, and the end result was an overwhelming yes. This was a direct slap in the face to MoMa, being that Rockefeller was a member of the board of trustees for the museum, and his family had been long-time supporters of the institution. It is certainly not the last proverbial bitchslap that Haacke would unleash upon arts grand institutions.

The next, in my opinion, simple yet powerful suckerpunch that Hans yieled was to the distinguished Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. In 1980, Mobil Corporation had sponsored an exhibit of West African art at the Met. In the same exact time period, Mobil was forced to defend itself when it had come to light they were aiding the apartheid-happy South African government. While few saw any correlation or significance, Haacke took notice:

MetroMobiltan. 1985. Fiberglass construction, three banners, and photomural.
(url link to a blowup of the image, with full detail is here- http://plaidnet.greenwichacademy.org/arthistoryslides/slideidgal/MODERNISM/LATE20THCENTURY/LATE20THCENTURY-Images/late20th57.jpg)

Here we find the centerpiece to be a banner advertising the Treasures of Ancient Nigeria exhibit from 1980. Capping this on either side are two quotes from Mobil regarding the sales of oil to military and police in South Africa. Behind all three curtains is a large photograph of black South African victims of apartheid taken in March of 1985 (ironically, taken March 16, 1985- my birthdate,but thats irrelevant). Mobil was forced to answer for its willingness to do business with an arguably cruel government with whom most nations of the world had terminated most economic relations (its answer was, "thanks, but we'll keep on trucking"). The funny thing is, the Met, which took money from Mobil...money likely made OFF of the aforementioned sales, did not have to explain its relationship with the oil company.

The work is both obvious and subtle. Obvious that the banner for the Mobil sponsored exhibit of Nigerian art, along with Mobil's carefully crafted statements that surround it, are masking the photo of tragedy in the back. Subtle in that the quote that appears on the false stonework above hangs high and requires the viewer to strain just so slightly to read it (my apologies for the reproduction of the work here is small so you will be unable to read it)-

"Many Public Relations opportunities are available through the sponsorship of programs, special exhibitions,and services. These can often provide a creative and cost effective answer to a specific marketing directive, particularly where international, governmental or consumer relations may be a fundamental concern.-The Metropolitan Museum of Art."

Haacke does what few artists seem willing to do today- he directly attacks the museum for, as he sees it, giving a corporation a PR out from its terrible activities.

In 1990, Phillip Morris Group (yep, back to these guys again!) sponsored the MOMA exhibit of Picasso. Haacke found this, shall we say, a little bit more than interesting:


Cowboy with Cigarette. 1990. Pasted paper, charcoal, ink, and frame.

Cowboy with Cigarette is of course a reference to the classical work Man With Hat by Picasso. The pasted paper are Phillip Morris corporate documents and press clippings relating to tobacco. In this work, the art itself has become a vehicle of advertisement for the sponsor. There is a reason for product placement in film and TV- companies know that a visual reminder of their product, even if it is just the brand name, is often enough to be recorded in the brain as memory, and later when we choose our products to buy, that last memory pops right back in. Phillip Morris, now Altria, has long sponsored art exhibits, particularly their 40+ year relationship with the Whitney Museum. Could it be that Phillip Morris is using these institutions to gain both public and psychological favor? The peak years of tobacco company sponsorship with the arts correlate directly with the explosion in lawsuits and outrage over the deaths these companies caused. Even their current advertisements on television, part of a court settlement, convey a "hey, we are trying to do the right thing, trust us" attitude. I said all this with about 500 characters, typed.

Haacke did the same with collage and drawing.

You may be wondering why I would be so in love with art that criticizes corporate sponsorship. As a libertarian, I like the concept of creating that which you will without external interference, pressure, and limitation. Frankly, when any large entity buys your canvas or your collection, the power over what is acceptable and what isn't shifts to the buyer in many circumstances. A worse case arises when you are hired from the start to produce work for the state or a corporate entitity. There, the creative control from conception can and will inevitably be influenced by the employer.

Haacke fiercely commands a seperation for the artist and art institutions from possible corporate patronage as a matter of principle that frees one from sharing responsibility for that patron's misdeeds and attempts to PR them away; and accountability from the art institutions that choose to ignore this. Haacke's work garners respect for its willingness to go after the true sacred cows- not the companies buying up musuem space but the museums whoring themselves out.

Artists of course have a freedom to sell their work to whomever they choose. But they cannot ignore the fact that by doing so, they ARE associated with that companies comings and goings. They can be manipulated into a PR campaign as social cover for activities they themselves would oppose...and they can only blame themselves for that. There is no moral gray area here, to be quite frank. You cannot scream and rant about Company X doing this that and the other, while your bank account is slightly fatter from Company Z that has done this that and the other evil things. You cannot claim a moral high ground this way.


The only way, difficult as it is, to claim a morally superior position on these matters is to forgo the patronage, like Haacke. As challenging as it is (Mobil actually attempted to block their logo out of an exhibition of his at the Tate in the mid-1980s), it yields the freedom to offer truly honest indstury critique and liberation from an almost systemic hypocrisy. I respect Haacke tremedously for that, and his work is all the better because of this.
***
Ok, time to inject some politicking into this. When I first heard about the NEA scandal, the first image that popped in my mind was MetroMobiltan. While the Obama Administration was quick to react and reassert the nonpartisan goals and nature of the NEA, the cat had made its intentions quite clear of getting out of the bag. What happened was not an example of an administration trying to manipulate public funding for the arts into advertising its ideas, as many of my collegues on the right have claimed. Worse, this was I feel an attempt by the NEA to get into even better graces with the President as a means of getting a far more favorable budget the following year. Sure, this may seem fine and dandy to you liberal artists out there- the opportunity to assist a President who shares many of your views and goals.

But lets set the clock backwards to 2003. Suppose President Bush had the NEA president in his office, begging for more money and in exchange changing the criteria of funding to help Bush with pushing for Operation Iraqi Freedom, or No Child Left Behind, or his tax cuts. NOW you see where the slope becomes more than slippery, its practically a 90 degree drop into state-run arts. I have often argued with artists about the merits of public-funding for the arts. There are limitations that arise and expectations one must meet that may not necessarily be in agreement with that artists statement of beliefs and goals.


While it is true that "all major societies fund the arts throughout history", lets take a deeper look at that. In the Middle Ages, would a Francis Bacon been allowed to depict a screaming pope disintegrating into raw meat? Would Andre Serrano piss in a jar and drop in a crucifix? The artists, while subtle and independent in some ways, had to fall in line with the demands of their sponsors. It fundamentally inhibits your freedom.

The choices and problems that arise from all sorts of sponsorship are vast, and are to be seriously considered before one demands an expanded NEA. In a free market Republic like ours, one would expect that if the NEA existed at all, it would serve a purpose of financially aiding artists to do and say as they please,to expand the pool of creativity and social reflection. When one starts whoring themselves, they fundamentally give up an essential element of art that is rather modern and recent- the creative freedom of the individual artist.

-Brandon Finnigan. Oct 7 2009

Tilted Arc, as seen by an appreciative Reaganite

Firstly, Richard Serra is not a Republican. Obvious from one of his appearances at the 2006 Whitney Biennial: Yeah, real nice job there Richie. Reminds me of one of my own pieces chastising Michael Moore- direct, obvious, and terribly forgettable.. There was also his altered version of Goya's Saturn Eating His Children, with...you guessed it, Bush, used in the 2004 Presidential campaign at the pleasevote.com website. Yes, it was direct political work used for the campaign against Bush, but I expect a little more from Serra, and you'll pick up why as you read on.

Serra contributed recently to the Broad Contemporary at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, with Sequence and Band, two monumental works more reminiscent of his monumental (yet minimalist) site-specific masses of steel prevelant in his earlier career. Transversing both has a psychological impact on the viewer. Their mass both looms and recedes over you, ungulating in alternately comfortable and frightening regularity. Stick with what you do like no other, Richard. Which brings us to my favorite work of Serra, one which should surprise my fellow conservatives:
Tilted Arc, 1981. Federal Plaza, New York, New York. Destroyed in 1989.

It's very simple. A 120 foot by 12 foot band of COR-TEN steel, slightly tilted and bowed, running diagonally across the plaza, forcing many workers in the plaza to walk its entire length to cross. "The viewer becomes aware of himself and of his movement through the plaza. As he moves, the sculpture changes. Contraction and expansion of the sculpture result from the viewer's movement. Step by step the perception not only of the sculpture but of the entire environment changes," so said Serra, confirming the forced encounter to be the very point.

Criticism of the work erupted immediately, most notably from the government workers at the plaza. They complained, incessantly, that it made public use of the plaza impossible. Of course critics had to come up with something worse sounding than that, so accusations of the work as a magnet for the homeless, rats, graffiti, or even terrorists (!) were hurled out there as well. Serra tried to defend the work as site specific, and has been adamant that public art liks Arc is fundamentally undemocratic, so protests from the public against it were moot. That fell on deaf ears, and a public hearing on the matter, despite supportive testimony outnumbering complaints, went 4-1 against Serra. They had ruled it to be removed and placed elsewhere, but as anyone who has experienced a Serra work of this scale up close, you can agree with Richards assertion that it is site specific. Moving it will simply rob it of its purpose and destroy it. So, how does a conservative see this gargantuan obstruction?


Fondly, in fact. Unlike most critics who often interpret works in directions diametrically opposed to the intent of the artist, without admitting to it, I will. This is NOT, I am sure, the works purpose in its creators eyes. But it is in mine. The placement of the work is critical. Federal Plaza workers, mostly of the government variety, screamed bloody murder that it made walking across to get a hot dog or drop off forms longer. Not impossible, just irritatingly longer. Humph. Something massive, out-of-place, and obstructionist. Government itself comes to mind here. Unlike in statist nations, where government really is everywhere you can think of (and would be in your own thoughts if it had its way) "government" here does not stop you from going where you need to go or doing what you need to do, it simply taxes, regulates, and investigates it to the point that you may not want to. It looms over, looms away, much like the ungulating form, but its always there, its presence unavoidable.


The irony in the whole controversy was that government workers themselves were protesting the loudest, complaining that it 'made their daily work difficult', something I suspect many of the same workers would scoff at if a member of the public lodged the same complaint about them. Tilted Arc stood as a reminder of the aggrevation a government presence can cause. People will get themselves out of your way in an open space. Cold steel stays put. Serra was dead right about its site-specific nature. It was an unintentional representation of the nature of government- obtrusive and vast. He defended the work by arguing that art isn't democratic. Fundamentally, government bueracracy isn't either- it is about controlling what the citizen can and cannot do, where he can and cannot go. That same government ultimately led to Tilted Arc's destruction. The only time government seems to work is against itself when part A gets in the way of part B's footlong and Diet Coke.

The timing of the work, 1981, coincided unintentionally with the rise of Reagan and the GreatLeapRight. Government, as it grew and aged through the 1950s, 60s, and 70s, became seen by an emerging American majority not as a useful part of our lives, but an eyesore, an ugly mass that just seemed to get in our way.

Its a shame that with our current government spending spree, and the Presidents proposals to expand government powers, we don't have just such a cold, oxidizing mass bending from Capitol Hill to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.







(Images (c)1985 David Aschkenas, Serra quote from PBS Article 'Culture Shock:Flashpints:VisualArts:Richard Serra's Tilted Arc- http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/cultureshock/flashpoints/visualarts/tiltedarc_a.html)