The Guggenheim was a disappointment.
I expected this:
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| A sixty year old art gallery; more 'modern' than anything since. |
...and this...
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| Note the paintings: a popular feature in most art galleries. |
...and this.
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| This SHOULD greet you as you enter, and accompany you on the journey up. It's what i sought: a space designed so that one skylight illuminated every rounded corner of the public space. |
Instead I got this:
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| Pretty! |
...and this...
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| Um...also pretty! |
...and this
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| "Spock, meet me on Deck C, corridor 5. Someone has stolen the Rembrandts!" |
What you're seeing on the colourful ones is screens across the open spaces of the spiral. The blank wall on the right in the bottom shot is the back of one of them. Pretty from the lobby, but hideous from the, you know, gallery bit. And yes, there are meant to be paintings and sculptures in the spaces around the edge.
I have James Turrell to thank apparently. A ‘light installation’ artist.
Seems like a nice guy; takes some lovely pictures, but all I see is this
wonderful building, turned from an architectural temple into a giant pastel
screen saver for people to fall asleep under. And I’m sorry, staring up at plain
colours projected onto screens while lying on the floor of a world-famous
museum might seem quite zen, but to me it was like nodding contemplatively
while Rolf Harris slapped a doodle onto the back of the Mona Lisa.
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| "Hm, yes, hm. Fascinating the way the artist has juxtaposed red and, uh, more red on the background red. To me it's a statement about man's inhumanity to...wait, what was I talking about?" |
The paintings were still there. The side galleries
displayed them in an adequate space, and having Steve The Guy Who Knows About
Paintings And Stuff with me was great. Still hot and cold on Picasso I’m
afraid; there’s some of his work I just don’t get. But I went there to see a building, inside and out. And some bloke had thrown a sheet over it and pointed mood lights at the walls.
I bought Guggenheim coffee mugs in the gift shop on the top
floor. I don’t need mugs, but it felt like an appropriate reminder of
an inspiring opportunity missed.
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| A piping hot cup of disappointment |
Next trip for sure. Provided mister Turrell has packed up his cellophane and glow-sticks and moved on.
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