Contempo Too Casual?

Contemporary art leaves room for conversation. Or conflict for that matter. After visiting the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston this afternoon, it occurred to me that my opinions on the genre (if that’s what you call it) are polarized to say the least.

Two of the exhibits in the building consisted of a collection of pieces by Gabriel Kuri and his exploration of the more commonplace and mundane details of the human experience and a section with various sculptures, installations, and posters from the last ten years by Ivan Navarro, Shepard Fairy, and others.

While somewhat intrigued by the theory of his work, I was thoroughly unimpressed with Mr Kuri’s attempt at documenting the everyday activities. From an installation of portable fans suspended from the ceiling and blowing air into plastic ‘thank you’ bags to granite marble slabs propped up against the wall with travel size toiletries placed on top of them to a bowl of avocados wrapped in historic newspaper pages, I have to be honest when I say that I just didn’t get the point.

The disappointment in this portion of the Institute prompted a discussion between me and my friend. To what extent is an artist responsible for creating a piece of work that is explanatory without the informational placard accompanying the piece? The avocados were entirely covered with newspaper. It could have just as well been a bowl of oranges or a plastic balls or bocce balls. Kuri’s point was to illustrate the passage of time from landmark events in the culture (Man’s landing on the moon in 1969 was the newspaper page) with the passage of time of ordinary aspects of life. The avocados will continue to be put in the bowl and then continue to expire as the years since the landing get further and further way. While I can appreciate the juxtaposition of these concepts, the first thing that came to mind was , “Is he serious?” If I didn’t read the placard, I would not have known any of this.

As a poet who considers herself a work in progress, I can understand the obtuse nature of some work and the inevitability of the significance of a piece of art evading a reader or a viewer, but what I cannot understand is the complete lack of effort put forth by an artist to prevent that confusion, and in my case, disillusionment. The title of Kuri’s exhibit, 'No one needs to know the price of your Saab,’ indicates some compulsive need to spotlight pedestrian behavior on the part of a human being (blowing up receipts from purchases over a three year span and then putting them on a tapestry or folding pages from vintage advertisements and pointing out their relevance to society) and somehow highlights its superiority from materialism and mass consumption. But perhaps Mr. Kuri himself is the one with the pedestrian notions?

In the next room over, Ivan Navarro’s mirrored light installation was the antithesis of the seemingly meaningless nature of Kuri’s work. Navarro created a wood tower that when you look down the shaft, you see an infinite line of light bulbs that trail off into the void. This invoked a nearly visceral reaction from me and on first glance, it was almost horrifying. AFTER feeling that, I referred to the explanation placard that pointed out that the wood tower was enigmatic of September 11^th. And just like that—my initial reaction to the piece made sense. It isn’t lost on me that pointing out my different reactions to these pieces probably makes me the dumbfounded artgoer complaining about the complicated nature of understanding contemporary art, but to be honest, it’s exactly the opposite.

Being difficult doesn’t make you complicated. Being complicated doesn’t make you smart. And being smart doesn’t necessarily mean that you are going to succeed in producing a piece of work that is evocative and profound. Artists very often have free range to do most, if not all, of their work--especially these types of contemporary artists. But I believe having that free range also makes you accountable to those of us on the receiving end in one very specific area. You have the responsibility to be unique in the way you tell your story. If you're not unique, then you're just another in a long line of narcissists hoping to leave an indelible mark, but more likely to be forgotten before their own death. The unique differences between these two particular artists are compassion and a fear of losing that compassion [and a lack thereof].

Kuri, is for me, the documentarian—he is merely reinstating newspaper pages and advertisements that are in and of themselves someone else’s works of art. Navarro, on the other hand, uses the work to recall a painful memory and then convey the feeling of that pain with a void. This isn’t the first time or the last time that I will say the best work comes from pain. And in the world of contemporary art, I think that that may be true now more than ever.

It is amazing how Kuri is documenting the human experience but his work is void of its stunning and infinite frontiers for tragedy. Navarro, on the other hand, goes so far as to say, "There is a certain amount of fear in my pieces. I make spaces in a fictional way to deal with my own psychological anxiety." What is remarkable is that Navarro’s light installation trickling down into an abyss, like a brick well filled with light bulbs, is anything but empty and void of human sorrow.

Apposition is a funny thing. Even now, sitting here, I have to wonder if the great curator puppeteer who placed these exhibits next to each other did so with a purpose.