William Poundstone
William Poundstone on Art and Chaos

William Poundstone’s Los Angeles County Museum on Fire

Is L.A. Ugly? Is Ugly Good?

“I live here because L.A. is ugly,” John Baldessari once said. Civic ungainliness spurs the art-creating instinct, he implied. That could be the subtext for a couple of current museum shows. The Getty Center’s “Overdrive: L.A. Constructs the Future, 1940-1990″ argues that L.A. was in the vanguard of urban planning precisely because there wasn’t much planning. A much-less heralded exhibition at the Pasadena Museum of California Art, “California Scene Paintings from 1930 to 1960,” explores the West Coast brand of Regionalism. The movement is best remembered for watercolors, traditionally a vehicle for the picturesque and sublime. Many of the works deliver just that, but the most provocative ones go in a different direction. Imagine John Currin as a landscape painter in c. 1940 L.A., and you’ve got the basic idea. Call it Ugly American Scene Painting.

One example is Emil Cosa Jr’s “Freeway Beginning.” It’s raw and awkward, breaking rules of composition and marketability. City Hall is reduced to a photobomb, like the palm tree in Baldessari’s Wrong. As one of the first depictions of an L.A. freeway, it’s a forgotten ancestor of the so-banal-it’s-good freeway art of Lundeberg, Celmins, and Opie.

Dong Kingman was an Oakland-born Chinese-American artist who toiled for the movie industry (creating backgrounds for Hollywood’s Flower Drum Song). A couple of Kingman’s watercolor landscapes here are literal forests of signs. Strolling (1946) is a candy-colored Chinatown as dystopic as Roman Polanski’s. Something terrible is about to happen—two figures wear gas masks as they approach #13. Wikipedia says the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences holds over 300 of Kingman’s works. If  they’re as inventive as those here, they could make a natural exhibition for the Academy’s planned Miracle Mile museum.

Dong Kingman, "Strolling," 1946. Mark and Janet Hilbert Collection

Marge Simpson Nixes Gehry at MOCA

MOCA’s “A New Sculpturalism: Contemporary Architecture from Southern California” is in jeopardy, reports Christopher Hawthorne in the L.A. Times. The much-anticipated survey of digital-LA’s swoopy architecture is/was to open June 2 as a linchpin of the Getty’s “PST Presents: Modern Architecture in Los Angeles.”

Explains Hawthorne, Frank Gehry “withdrew from the exhibition last month, despite what he described as entreaties from [guest curator Christopher] Mount, MOCA Director Jeffrey Deitch and top officials from the Getty. ‘I didn’t feel comfortable in it,’ Gehry said. ‘It didn’t seem to be a scholarly, well-organized show… I’m subject to misunderstanding about the seriousness of my work. People assume I am just crumpling paper, and so forth. This was feeling a bit that way, a trivialization.”

“Crumpling paper” merits a sidebar. In 2011, CNN’s Fahreed Zakaria asked Gehry about “the famous story that you took a piece of paper and crumpled it and looked at it, and that was the Disney Hall in L.A.”

“But that’s a famous story because The Simpsons had me do that,” Gehry replied. “It has haunted me. People who’ve seen The Simpsons believe it.”

Rewind to 2005. Gehry was the first starchitect to do an animated guest shot on The Simpsons. Blue-haired homemaker Marge Simpson writes Gehry a letter, asking him to design a concert hall for Springfield. Gehry crumples up the letter. When he sees the tossed letter’s shape, he recognizes a work of genius.

The Simpsons gag has grown into an urban legend believed by otherwise well-informed journalists and clients. Gehry complained to CNN, “Clients come to me and say, ‘Crumple a piece of paper, we’ll give you $100 and then we’ll build it.’”

Zumthor Sticker Shock?

The L.A. Times reports that Peter Zumthor’s new LACMA building will cost $650 million (including a reserve for contingencies). Already some are claiming sticker shock.

Those people haven’t priced a museum makeover lately. The Whitney’s new High Line home, designed by Renzo Piano, is pegged at $680 million. The Whitney collects and exhibits contemporary and 20th-century American art. So does LACMA, along with every other kind of art.

The above chart shows some reported construction budgets adjusted for inflation. Two observations:

1. $650 million looks pretty reasonable for an encyclopedic museum (none of the others are).

2. Want rock-bottom prices? Hire Frank Gehry.

Broad Adds El Anatsui’s “Red Block”

The Broad Art Foundation has acquired Red Block (2010), a two-panel work in the El Anatsui show at the Brooklyn Museum. Brooklyn has itself bought a related work out of the show, Black Rock.

The material consists partly of metal seals for “007″-brand dark rum. There’s globalization for you.

Red Block is the third work by the artist in the Broad collection, and the Broad Art Foundation was co-sponsor of “Gravity and Grace: Monumental Works by El Antasui.” The exhibition is in Brooklyn through August and is set to travel to San Diego MOCA.

Photo via aestheticperspectives.com

Urs Fischer at MOCA

Anxiety of influence—what, me worry? Your estimation of Urs Fischer’s MOCA show will probably track with your opinion of the role of originality in art.

“Good artists borrow, great artists steal.” It’s now fairly well established that Picasso never said that, though that apocryphal wisdom helps account for the art world’s love-hate relationship with Fischer. To the haters, Fischer is a rip-off artist. To the supporters, Fischer’s borrowings are irrelevant or, alternatively, deep comments on the art history he appropriates.

Fischer’s practice (excuse my French) is a content farm. Like spammy websites, he borrows/steals intellectual property in mass quantities and changes it just enough to get away with it. He’s incredibly prolific and profitable.

Example: Fischer’s mirror boxes, a blend of Warhol and Pistoletto. The partial illusion of an object in space is diverting and not quite like the swinging sixties forebears.

Fisher inverts that premise to more original effect at the Geffen. He photographed the walls of the near-empty studio of artist Josh Smith and recreated the images as photo-mural wallpaper for similarly scaled rooms at the Geffen. Now you’re inside the box. This is a new twist on trompe l’oeil, the eternal gimmick that is almost always interesting and almost never great.

FWIW, the pseudo-Picasso line (a staple of content-farm “famous quotation” sites) has been connected to a T.S. Eliot quote that is equally unverifiable (“Good poets borrow, great poets steal.”) That is however a reasonable condensation of this documented Eliot (The Sacred Wood, 1921):

“Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique, utterly different than that from which it is torn; the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion. A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time, or alien in language, or diverse in interest.”

No poet or artist can be all original all the time. The question is whether the creator adds more value than s/he swipes. In his L.A. Times review, Christopher Knight pegged Fischer as the global art market’s Thomas Kinkade, the “Painter of Light.” William Powhida (@Powhida) condensed that for Twitter as “Sculptor of Blight.” That one will take a while to live down. ”Blight” refers to Fischer’s leitmotif of decay and mortality, which is often expressed by, um, skeletons actually.
The entropy theme is better embodied in the weird folk-art environment, YES. Fischer assembled about 1500 L.A. volunteers to create clay sculptures that temporarily fill the Geffen Temporary-Contemporary. It’s a brand-new and already crumbling Watts Towers that no one will have to conserve. The many sculptures, in all sizes and levels of finish, have parallels to face jugs, sand castle contests, and miniature golf hazards. The power of folk art resides less in solitary genius or the alternative perspective of the “outsider” than in the entrancing gap between intention and realization. Fischer has turned the Geffen into an Ideal Palace in which people who wouldn’t normally make a folk art environment did.
Separate from the retrospective is a Fischer loan displayed in MOCA Grand Avenue’s permanent collection galleries. A Place Called Novosibirsk (2004) is a sweep broom whose handle appears to be suspended by a helium balloon that rocks slightly with air currents. You may debate whether Fischer is artist, entrepreneur, or prop comic, but this is one gimmick you probably haven’t seen before.

First Photo of Zumthor’s Glass House-LACMA

(c) Peter Zumthor

The Wall Street Journal has a profile of Michael Govan that includes the first published image of a model of architect Peter Zumthor’s design for the future LACMA. Reports Christina Binkley :

“Zumthor’s plan, in its current form, involves removing four of LACMA’s eight existing buildings—including a troublesome mishmash of mid–to–late–20th century architecture, which often compels museum-goers to duck in and out of disconnected pavilions during a visit—and replacing them with the museum of the future that Govan has been building in his head since he was an art student. Glass walls that permit the museum’s art to be viewed from as far away as Wilshire Boulevard are key elements of Zumthor’s prototype, which would connect other buildings—including a beloved Japanese pavilion and an Academy of Motion Pictures museum—with an indoor-outdoor art park, where visitors can wander at will and preview exhibitions before entering.…

“Zumthor… says he aims to create ‘a village of experiences. It’s an organic shape, like a water lily, floating and open with glass 360 degrees around,’ he says. There will be a curving perimeter, a sort of wide veranda, surrounding a series of ’sacred’ transparent galleries, all contained under one giant roof that will be covered with solar panels. The building is designed to produce more energy than it uses and will ‘reexpose the sky that is now blocked by existing structures,’ says Zumthor.

“Govan envisions passersby watching curators set up exhibitions—activities typically shielded from the public. Rather than the usual 60 percent of museum space devoted to back-of-house uses, he wants to reverse the equation, and then some: As much as 80 percent of the square footage will house art on view to the public.”

Much more will be in this summer’s PST Presents show, “The Presence of the Past: Peter Zumthor Reconsiders LACMA.”

Baldessari Meets “Dr. Death”

The Art Newspaper reports that John Baldessari has been unable to secure a dead body for his long-planned Cadaver Piece. Conceived in 1970, it would involve a tableaux vivant of Mantegna’s The Lamentation over the Dead Christ using an actual dead body for the foreshortened Christ. Viewers would observe the piece from a peephole enforcing Mantegna’s perspective. The concept isn’t to everyone’s taste but it’s hard to fault the project ethically. Baldessari intends to get someone to donate his postmortem body (temporarily) for the work, with full approval of the next of kin and legal authorities. Curator Hans Obrist wanted to present the Cadaver Piece at the Manchester International Festival. As they couldn’t get a body, they instead displayed related letter and e-mail correspondence—a conceptual documentation piece that is as much about lawyers as mortality. “To exhibit a dead body in a museum in the wrong circumstances is highly illegal,” said Obrist. “You could go to prison.”

The ideal prospective donor would be younger than Jesus (obviously). He would then happen to die of natural causes at a youngish age. That’s an actuarial long shot. Realistically Baldessari would need a number of potential volunteers to have much chance of realizing the piece.

My question: Why is so hard to find a donor when thousands have willingly donated their bodies to Gunther von Hagens and his gruesomely kitschy “Body Worlds” shows? Von Hagens—a.k.a. “Dr Death”—poses flayed and “plastinated” dead people in science museum exhibits. Every “Body World” show contains scores of dead bodies, and they’ve been shown to huge crowds all over the world. Dignity? Please. Von Hagens’ écorchés play basketball, ride a motorcycle, make love, and play poker in jokey tableaux. Hey look, the guy below just drew the dead man’s hand!

According to von Hagens’ website “more than 13,300 donors worldwide” have volunteered to be plasticized for future museum exhibits. Von Hagens is no longer accepting donations because “the program has simply reached its capacity.”

Art Fact: Diane Arbus

Diane Arbus’ husband was an actor who appeared on M*A*S*H, Starsky & Hutch, and Curb Your Enthusiasm.

(From Allan Arbus’ New York Times obituary. Pictured, Diane’s A House on a Hill.)

Turrell’s Ganzfeld Experiment, Part 2

James Turrell, "Bindu Shards," shown at Gagosian Gallery, London, 2010

(SECOND OF A TWO-PART POST. PART ONE IS HERE.)

The ganzfeld artwork that James Turrell, Robert Irwin, and Ed Wortz conceived for LACMA and Expo 70 was never realized. The collaboration’s break-up is nonetheless described at great length in the catalog to Art and Technology. There LACMA’s Jane Livingston wrote,

“…Irwin and Turrell became less inclined—through the Spring and into the Summer of 1969—to carry out their original plan for designing an environment combining an anechoic chamber with a Ganz field for the Museum… Then, in August, Jim Turrell suddenly abdicated from the project. He terminated his relationship with Irwin, though he has continued to the present time to see Wortz. Irwin said later that had Turrell maintained his participation in the project, they might eventually have consummated an environmental piece, but that he didn’t feel inclined to pursue it on his own, or with Dr. Wortz.”

The word “abdicated,” used several times, might describe the action of a pope—or Bartleby. Livingston then gave the three principals open mike to go all Rashomon on each other. I encourage you to read the catalog’s complete account, not that it will settle anything.

Wortz said the collaboration became “non-goal-oriented” and spoke of a “problem” between Irwin and Turrell.

“Bob approached information differently than Jim or myself. Jim and I are primarily information sops. Bob withholds information. He keeps the information at a distance, which is interesting, because he would arrive at the same observations and the same set of conclusions by holding off information. It was a very effective technique. Jim and I would sop it all up…

Irwin and Turrell with a ganzfeld hemisphere, c. 1969

Here’s Irwin’s side of the story.

“All this kind of information has very strange social connotations. You find yourself not telling everyone about it, because a lot of people look at you like you’ve dropped your cookies It’s not a verbal experience… Wortz and I operate out of common experience. We would do various experiments together, and then begin to talk about them afterward. But when you spend this playing with non-verbal forms, it gets hard to talk. You don’t have a desire to talk about it. It doesn’t work, and it doesn’t feel right.”

Turrell’s comments “were quite different from those of Wortz and Irwin, ” wrote Livingston. “Often his statements seem immensely distanced from the issues at hand, and reveal as much about the evolution of his thinking over the last year as about his role or approach during the time of the collaboration.”

A few quotes from Turrell:

“We’re standing next to a swimming pool a little bit frightened about jumping in. But everyone’s going to get pushed in, or jump in finally. It doesn’t make any difference which…

“The scientist has reserved the universe of the unknown as his place. What the artist has to reveal seems to be of a different order—but it probably isn’t, in the end.

“If either art or technology become a religion, maybe the stuff will start getting more exciting. There’s got to be an Art and Technology Christ…”

A plausible meta-conclusion is that the three realized the logistical impracticality of their ganzfeld piece. It would have permited only one viewer at a time, for an enforced session of around 30 minutes. That’s about two visitors an hour, assuming the morphing chair/elevator didn’t go on the fritz and ignoring any liability issues.

In the 1970s the term “ganzfeld” became associated with extra-sensory perception. Some experiments purported to show that subjects wearing ganzfeld googles had clairvoyant powers. The CIA, alarmed by reports that the Soviet Union was studying psychic espionage and warfare, spent $20 million on the “Stargate Project,” encompassing studies of ganzfeld telepathy at the Stanford Research Institute.

To make a long post shorter, the SRI experiments have been convincingly and abundantly debunked. The connection between ganzfeld environments and telepathy or psychedelia has entranced a number of filmmakers however. Ken Russell’s Altered States (1980), from a novel and screenplay by Paddy Chayefsky, is a worthy specimen of post-Kubrick sci-fi. The upcoming film The Ganzeld Experiment sounds more derivative. Here is IMDb’s précis:

“In a world where past meets present and the present gets lost in time, reality is blurred for 5 College psychology students who are pushing all boundaries during an ESP experiment over a lost weekend… Memories, dreams, past, future… Can they forget what they cannot remember??? – For those 5 students a new kind of terror awaits.… Is anything real???”

The Stanford Research Institute bounced back from its ganzfeld boondoggle. After losing the CIA contract, SRI developed software to converse with human voices and licensed it to Apple, which incorporates it in iPhones and iPads—as “Siri.”

Meanwhile Ed Wortz left the corporate world to become a therapist specializing in artists and using techniques of Buddhist meditation. He died in 2004.

Turrell has lately adopted the word ganzfeld for a series of light installations. They are spacious rooms, suited to several visitors at once. The light, modulated by digital and LED technology, cycles seamlessly. A ganzfeld piece titled Breathing Light will be featured in LACMA’s main Turrell show (and has been purchased for the collection by Kayne Griffin Corcoran and the Kayne Foundation). Below is a view of another ganzfeld, Dhatu.

A distinct group of recent works, the perception cells, are closely related to the unrealized Art and Technology piece. In Light Reignfall, to be shown at LACMA, a single viewer lies down on a sliding gurney within a spherical chamber for a theoretically perfect ganzfeld-gestalt/zeitgeist. The experience lasts 12 minutes, and timed tickets allow for three visitors per hour.

That’s scarcely more “practical” than the original idea. The difference is that Turrell is now an artworld rock star and audiences are willing to stand in line, sign waivers, and pay steep fees to experience one of his most quintessential works. Another perception cell, Bindu Shards (top of post), was a sold-out hit when shown at the London Gagosian Gallery in 2010. Here is The Guardian’s Jonathan Jones on Bindu Shards:

“I am placed on a sliding medical bed, counselled some more and locked in the sphere. And it begins. A relaxed ambient expanse of blue is shattered by high-speed flashing that rapidly becomes an ever-changing pattern of flowers, crystals, galaxies, quasars and nebulae.

“Then I see a cityscape of vertiginous skyscrapers, with no earth below. All these forms and volumes that pulse and metamorphosise are defined by colours that change convulsively – the most intensely saturated greens and reds you can imagine, colours that seem solid, then burst into microscopic patterns of oranges, blacks, gold and misty white; all these colours bubble and whir at breakneck speed, as if you were in a particle accelerator.

“But the most important part of the experience is that you do not know what is inside and outside your head. I saw a space, or rather an ever-changing succession of spaces, but these were independent of any actual material reality – they existed only in my head.…

“One critic has already claimed he had a mental orgasm in the chamber. It would be nice to scoff but I feel that downplays the power of this mind-expanding work of art. Sessions are fully booked, which means we critics are just fuelling the already large numbers of disappointed visitors. The other works in the exhibition, free for all, are almost equally revelatory. Turrell is the mad scientist of postminimalism, and he’s on a roll.”

There you have it, folks—$45 for the magical mental orgasm tour. Tickets go on sale May 8.

Stills from Turrell's "Sustaining Light," a modulated light piece shown at Gagosian Gallery, London, 2010

James Turrell’s Ganzfeld Experiment

Ganzfeld is this summer’s vocabulary word. German for “entire [visual] field,” it’s a concept central to the art of James Turrell, subject of tri-coastal exhibitions at LACMA, the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, and the New York Guggenheim. For what it’s worth, a “paranormal thriller” titled The Ganzfeld Experiment is also due to hit movie theaters.

That may leave you wondering how Turrell’s numinous art can have any connection to a wannabe horror franchise. Well, you might start by perusing the William Castle waiver that LACMA is requiring visitors to sign, in order to experience Turrell’s “perceptual cell,” Light Reignfall. The affidavit, available in English and Spanish, stipulates that the visitor is 18 or over, has no heart problems, is covered by health insurance, agrees to pay for any necessary emergency treatment, and acknowledges “that the Work has been known to cause epileptic seizures and that my experiencing the Work may result in serious injury, including… partial or total disability, paralysis, death, and/or severe social and economic losses.”

The Levitra commercial legalese reflects an imperative to disclose any conceivable side effect to a litigious public. I predict your chances of surviving Light Reignfall are excellent. I’m also sure that somebody, somewhere, has dropped dead while viewing a Matisse.

The perceptual cell is a separate and premium timed ticket from the Turrell retrospective itself (both open May 26). The price is—no typo—$45 ($15 for LACMA members), inclusive of the main exhibition. Surcharge and waiver notwithstanding, Turrell’s perception pod is likely to be the hottest ticket in town.

Here’s why.

Forty-four years ago Turrell and Robert Irwin collaborated on a ganzfeld installation for LACMA’s “Art and Technology” initiative. They were assisted by Ed Wortz, a Garrett Corporation psychologist who did human-factors engineering for NASA missions. In August 1969 Turrell walked off the project, and the ganzfeld installation was never realized. Since then the Turrell-Irwin-Wortz collaboration has taken on mythic dimensions as the greatest light and space work that never was. Turrell’s recent series of perception cells are the closest approximation to it. (At top of post is a view of another perception cell, Bindu Shards, 2010.)

“Ganzfeld” describes the experience of snowblind arctic explorers or pilots navigating dense fog. When everything in the visual field is the same color and brightness, the visual system shuts down. White is black is nothing is everything. When this occurs for an extended period, the person is subject to phantasmagoric hallucinations: the “prisoner’s cinema” experienced in isolation cells or collapsed mines.

This phenomenon has been studied in psychology labs. Long before Google glasses there were Ganzfeld goggles, and in a way they’re the opposite. Early Ganzfeld goggles consisted of halved ping-pong balls placed over the eye. The idea is to subtract information from the visual field. Turrell studied ganzfeld experiments in his psychology classes at Pomona College, and aerospace scientists like Ed Wortz worried that astronauts, encapsulated for long periods, might hallucinate.

LACMA’s “Art and Technology” project paired artists with scientists at local technology firms. The cover of the exhibition catalog is a serial grid of 64 mug shots of artists, scientists, entrepreneurs, and moguls. All are male, and all but Fred Eversley are white. (Where’s Warhol? Andy manages to stand out too.) The whole catalog is now on the LACMA site. This two-part post is mainly an executive summary of the catalog’s account of Irwin-Turrell-Wortz.

Caltech physicist Richard Feynman escorted Turrell and Irwin on a tour of the Garrett Corporation. The artists met Wortz and immediately hit it off. The three agreed to collaborate on an experiential artwork to be shown at Expo 70, a world’s fair in Osaka, Japan, and a 1971 LACMA exhibition. At that time Irwin had a considerable reputation as a painter and had already produced his iconic disk paintings. The younger Turrell was far less known, but he had already had a solo show at the Pasadena Art Museum in 1967. That same year Pasadena did a show of Irwin and Doug Wheeler’s light and space works.

Irwin-Turrell-Wortz envisioned a “sensory chamber.” Visitors, perhaps blindfolded, would enter a pitch-dark, soundproofed room. This would permit various perceptual tricks in the name of art.

As part of the R&D, Turrell and Irwin had volunteers sit in darkness in a soundproof room at UCLA, for 4 to 10 minutes. Even in that short period, many reported dream-like perceptions: “rod-shaped blue things… faces from weird angles… mainly ‘Christ-like’ and blond-female’ types… water sounds, walking sounds, stomach gurgles, bone creakings.” (Above, a seated Irwin and standing Turrell at UCLA, from the Art and Technology catalog.)

Turrell described the intended Osaka-LACMA artwork as a 12 x 12 x 12 foot black room—the antithesis of the white cube—wherein the visitor would sink into to the comfortable chair of modern art. Psych!

“The chair the visitor is seated in,” Turrell wrote, “is constructed of moveable parts which will slowly flatten as it is hydraulically lifted up to the third, upper chamber so that the visitor will end up prone on the floor of the upper chamber. There will be no light or sound stimuli at first in the chamber… stimuli will increase gradually to the point which seems to be between hallucination and reality.”

Would LACMA have permitted a reality-undermining artwork? As recently as 1966 Los Angeles had been a nanny county whose supervisors nearly shut down an Ed Kienholz show for insinuating that teenagers have sex in cars. Turrell was more concerned about the art world’s reaction.

“A problem may arise with this project in the minds of the art community who may regard it as ‘non-art’—as theatrical, or more scientific than artistic…”

He countered,

“The works of previous artists have come from their own experiences or insights but haven’t given the experience itself. They had set themselves up as a sort of interpreter to the layman… Our interest is in a form where you realize that the media are just perception.”

IN PART 2: TURRELL ABDICATES; THE CIA GETS INTO THE GANZFELD BUSINESS

(Below, Turrell, Irwin, and Wortz.)