One of my favorite pieces at the Armory Show was “White Slave,” which is a sculpture by Abastenia St. Eberle.  The title is a euphemism for child prostitution.  I liked it because of its blatant social and feminine message, and because of its theme of cruelty and restraint.  This lack of freedom was important to Eberle, who was a progressive as well as a suffragette.  I also found this piece meaningful because, although it comments on issues of the artist’s times, it transcends eras and can be a message for everyone in relation to many different topics.  It can speak to someone personally of an internal struggle he or she is going through.  It was eery how well Eberle was able to universally represent something so personal and emotional.  Taking out the historical context, to me the naked girl represents our vulnerabilities, weakness, and insecurities laid out bare before us, and the man represents our demons.  This was an extremely powerful and deep work of art that really stuck with me.

I also liked the portrait “Man on a Balcony” by Albert Gleizes.  This painting strongly reminded me of DuChamp’s “Nude Descending a Staircase” because of their intentional distortion of reality and abstract qualities.  The subject of Gleizes’ piece, though, is more discernible than DuChamp’s, but I still had to study it for a while to fully see it.  I liked his use of distinct geometric shapes to create a whole image.  Although at first glance this piece appeared fragmented to me, after analyzing it for a while, I found it to be harmonious and flowing.  I think this is in part due to the colors of the painting, which are subtle and understated and universal throughout.  Gleizes was a founder of Cubism, which is displayed in this work.  I find paintings that illustrate Cubism interesting, not only for their aesthetic qualities, but also because of what they represent.  Cubism emerged as a reaction against classicalism and was used as a mode of expressing individuality and rebelling against the norm.  In a way, it was a means of attainting freedom.  I think this is important because freedom is an age-old theme and goal that we are still trying to grasp today.  That makes these paintings very relatable and meaningful.

In gallery H, the “radical” gallery of the Armory Show, there was a wall covered with written responses to the original exhibition.  There were the words “ugly,” “vulgar,” “hideous,” “revolting,” “crude,” and many other negative remarks.  I found these comments interesting because it shows how evolutionary our society is, especially in terms of art.  In modern times, the pieces on display at the Armory Show are considered creative and are lauded for their artistic individuality and expression, a far cry from the backlash this same exhibition created in 1913.  This made me curious about how art today will be received in a future time; whether it be paintings, music, or performances, will art that is considered radical be accepted and praised?

City life is usually fast-paced so we never get to stop and see what is actually around us. In the High Line we are able to do just that. From there you can see the city and you are surrounded by greenery that you wouldn’t be able to just enjoy on a normal day. You can sit down in one of the many benches and see the city move around you. You can see the traffic moving below and the people constantly passing back and forth, but while all that is happening you can just relax and enjoy your surrounding from the high line.     

The gallery that I found the most interesting was the Martin Honert exhibition at the Matthew Marks gallery. Since this was the first gallery we entered, it was the one that struck me the most because of the use of space. I thought that there would be more inside the gallery, but instead there was only one piece in each room. The rooms were also plain white, which even made it seem sterile and gave a cold feeling in the room. The cold room gave the statues that were there a more detached mood. They all appeared happy because of the smiles but at the same time those smiles seemed fake and as though they were there just for appearances. 

Even though I only walked up to the middle of the High Line, I still sensed its unique peace and inspiration.  Started from the entrance at the Tenth Avenue, I was surprised by its distinctive landscape. The High Line, accompanied by lovely bushes and grasses on both side of the walkaway, presented visitors a rare natural view in this modern metropolis.  Embraced by charming plants, people had already unloaded all the pressure and burdens from their life. As the breeze assuaged all people’s stress, they concentrated on nothing more important than the view on the streets.  When I watched the cars moving under the High Line and the people walking up and down the street, I felt the people in this city were always rushed through daily life, never slowed their quickening-pace to anything.  At that moment, however, I felt like the place where I stood was excluded from this bustling city, because the people on the High Line were strolling alone with that pleasant landscape which extended forward. And at the same time, they also photographed all the beauty that attracted them, no matter the trees, the plants or the street view. Instead of being engulfed by huge buildings and mansions as they were in the streets, the people on the High Line had a broader perception, because of High Line high above the ground. When I looked at to the end of the street, which appeared to connect to the sky, the luminous sunlight seemed to drive away all of tiredness and once again lighten the energy in my life.

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Probably the last thing you expect to see in the busy metropolis Manhattan is a gas station full of 25 sheep! When I first glimpsed Sheep Station I didn’t think anything of it. The gas pumps, signs, convenience store, and even the icebox all seemed totally typical. (Although the staggering low gas prices should’ve been a red flag!) But when I did a double take, I was enthralled by the luscious green grass, the trimmed bushes, and the life-like sheep that were so out of place at 239 10^th Avenue, West Chelsea.

A guard standing on the premises was handing out fliers with information for the many passersby who had stopped to gape. Michael Shvo, a developer, bought this piece of land that was formerly an actual Getty filling station, and plans to build luxury residences there. However, throughout the construction period he plans to “bring outdoor exhibitions to a broad audience in the center of the High Line arts district.” Sheep Station, the work of French artist, François-Xavier Lalanne was the first exhibition and was featured from September 17^th to October 21^st.

This art is definitely something that makes people halt and take a second look! There are numerous, beautiful art galleries at Chelsea, but most of them are indoors. I think it’s great that Shvo, who is an art collector as well as a real estate developer, decided to take this initiative. Art shouldn’t be exclusively catered to one audience. Some of the galleries I walked into were so proper; white walls, a gentleman in suit at the entrance without a even a friendly “hello”; it seemed that this art was just meant for posh people. In contrast though, Getty Station is for the public; it’s for everyone and anyone who passes by, and that is what makes it so wonderful!

As one would find his or her respective to have been quite, for lack of a better term, “blah,” the Martin Honert exhibition at the Matthew Marks Gallery (of the Chelsea area of New York City) brought that perspective to life in the form of three pieces.

Above, English Teacher, Honert’s 2010 work, greeted us as we ventured into the gallery. My initial reaction was that it was really creepy, but as I looked closer, and began to feel the empty stare of the “english teacher,” I felt a sort of instant connection with the piece. The way that an authority figure of such seemingly miniscule stature can instill a sense of fear into any person they come in contact with, over the years. As a student, myself, I recognized the point of Honert’s work, here, instantly: the grey “blur” of one’s childhood memories can be blocked by frightening experiences, such as the first time a teacher yells at you, etc.

In Honert’s effort to reiterate this message, the piece of the next room,

Dormitory, Model 1:5, explored the blandness of a dormitory room, like the ones at a university or a boarding school. On Honert’s tangent of a sort-of “childhood grayscale” ironically felt more bland with the blue and yellow lighting scheme of the piece, highlighting the traditional two-sided “yes-or-no,” “right-or-wrong” type of childhood. Fun fact: One of the people viewing Dormitory was within earshot and I heard them say, “Wow, this looks like my dormitory from boarding school, what a boring time that was… yes, Sharon, I actually went to boarding school.”

The final piece in the gallery was in the third and final room.

Tentatively called Group of Teachers, this piece brought the same eerie feeling of which was received upon first glance of English Teacher: the kind of feeling where you are scared, but you don’t know what you are afraid of, likely due to the installation of fear from authority figures. I look at these “teachers” and automatically feel guilty about something I didn’t do…

It was interesting to see what qualifies as art and what is brushed off to the streets. As we walked into the Martin Honert gallery, the first thing we encountered was a man sitting at the desk, typing away on a sleek Macbook. He seemed to be an art piece in and of himself, representing the uppity and somewhat pretentious dynamic of the Chelsea gallery scene.  He did not even look up as we walked in. Somehow, I always look down when I’m in the city. I find it fascinating what the underrated minds of New York City have to offer. It’s amazing to see that art that is drifting around the actual streets of Chelsea, not just the wall of expensive art galleries.              

This sticker caught my attention after we had gone through all of the galleries. It struck me as interesting that something this simple could make such a big statement. I found myself comparing it to the gallery we visited it last, Lived, Lives, Will Live!, which made a statement about wealth using 24 carat gold chains.  This illustration was so simple, but I liked the fact that it showed that money and happiness are intertwined. I really appreciate simplicity because it takes a lot of talent to make a point in a focused and a straightforward way.

I liked this hypocritical piece of graffiti, although I did not completely understand it. Under a tiny sign stating, “Street art kills,” there were three bottles of insulin with needles, which is used as a remedy for diabetes. The artist seemed to imply that is akin to diabetes–a disease–but the cure was painted on the streets of New York. The cure to street art is street art? the more I thought about it, he was urging good street artists to undo the damage that “bad” graffiti had created. The thing about graffiti is that it is meant to be looked at with a passing glance- characteristically busy New Yorkers don’t have time for much more- so the fact that I was reading so much into it felt different; I was so used to discussing the art in the galleries that I didn’t realize this art was meant for a completely different audience.

Out of all the galleries and the artwork displayed in these galleries the piece of art that stood out to me the most was the Aerial view of Diepsloot by Pieter Hugo whose work was on display.

The photo which is shown to the left, is the view of Diepsloot a settlement in South Africa. Through the picture you can see the living conditions that the inhabitants withstand; no proper roads, shacks made of any material found. This picture was the object of my fascination particularly because of the strong resemblance it has to the Dominican Republic, where my parents were born and raised. My initial thought was actually of whether or not it was DR. Regardless of the place pictured, looking at Hugo’s piece of art caused me to reminisce about all the times I’ve traveled to visit my family and how similar the living conditions are between the two places that are on nearly opposite sides of the globe.

Although the galleries were fairly entertaining , I found the artwork spread around the neighborhood captivated my attention more. One artwork that caught my attention was the one pictured to the right. I almost walked right by it because of how used to the emergency boxes I am but thankfully I noticed it. One street artist took an old, out of service red fire alarm box and made it his own art piece. He added a figurine of a hooded man holding a boom box and even added some tiny details to the inside of the box. Another art piece that grabbed my attention was graffiti that was done to a truck. Although graffiti being an art is a very controversial topic, I believe that this was in fact a piece of art. The artist used such a varied combination of colors and shapes that it would be nearly impossible to not notice the truck as you were walking by.

Shvo’s “Getty Station”

The three galleries that I visited in Chelsea all contained beautiful artwork.  Some were sculptures, some were photographs, and others were paintings.  The exhibit that was the most powerful was not indoors, trapped behind a door.  Lalanne’s sculptures of sheep that were on Michael Shvo’s Getty Station provided insight into how we as a people are treating the environment, both through the exhibit itself as well as the reactions it caused.

When I first passed by the exhibit, I was drawn to it because of the grass.  The shade of green was so brilliant and bright that it immediately made the entire station seem out of place.  Once I realized that there were sheep sculptures occupying the colorful lawn, I was puzzled.  I asked myself, “who would put sheep in the middle of Manhattan?”  It dawned on me that we built a city where animals once freely roamed.  People took the animals’ homes from them, and though I was able to grasp this concept, other passersby certainly did not.

One man approached the people handing out information about Lalanne’s project and loudly announced, “I demand to know the meaning of this!”  Others said that it was an “outrage” that someone would take over a gas station with something “as useless as sheep.”  It was very ironic; not only did people take over sheep’s habitat, but New Yorkers themselves can be considered similar to sheep.  We walk in herds, crossing streets in bunches and gathering around each other on crowded city sidewalks.  Lalanne’s exhibit was meant to make people think, and it certainly did.  Unfortunately, some people are not very open-minded.  Still, the piece did its job, and was by far the most evocative and visually pleasing piece that I came across that day in Chelsea.

One of the coolest things about the Chelsea Galleries is that the art is everywhere. For example, this piece is visible from the High Line:

There are two things I love about this artwork. First, it is not entirely clear what it is “supposed” to be. Is it a blue check mark, a yellow Teletubby and Pac-man? Does it spell the word “LOVE”? Is it a group of colorful, misshapen balloons?  Lots of interpretations pop up in my mind when I see it.

The second thing I enjoy is the location and context of this sculpture. Directly to its right is a dirty building with graffiti on it. This raises a question we have discussed in class: What qualifies something as art? Just like graffiti, the sculpture uses bright colors, forms rounded shapes, and is in a public place. They don’t seem that different! But they are. When I said “this piece” in my opening sentence, it was immediately clear that I meant the sculpture and not the graffiti.

We perceive graffiti as ugly. Painting over that wall would be considered “beautification” of the neighborhood, and I’m not sure I disagree. The sculpture has an artistic element that distinguishes it from the graffiti, but it is hard to define exactly what that element is. For some reason, the sculpture is good art, and the graffiti is bad art. Even without knowing why that is, it is fun to appreciate the contrast between the pieces.

Tamar Lichter

I was extremely excited to come to Chelsea to see art from many different types artists. Little did I know that I would find this within the first few minutes in Chelsea. As soon as I met the High Line, I was in awe. The feeling of being thirty feet above ground in the city fascinated me. There was a sense of isolation on the High Line. New York City in one of the most active cities in the world, yet the High Line remained peaceful and calm.

This was first shown through the greenery. As I walked through the High Line, I examined the flowers and patches of grass. There was a garden coming up from beneath a railroad. The contrast between the metal and the railroad was very intense, and gave me the idea that beauty can grow out of anything.

As I walked on, I saw a statue created by George Condo titled “The Liquor Store Attendant”. This was a statue of a mans face, yet it did not look like a regular human being. This statue’s distorted face was no different than the artist’s usual work that examines human psychology. It urged me to think of the ways in which I perceive a “regular” human.

I also came across a piece entitled “The Broken Bridge”. It was a three dimensional work of art placed on a building. This is the artist, El Anatsui’s, biggest art piece to date. It shows a wave of pattern made of recycled tin and mirrors. Through the tin the piece reflects the High Line, and depending on your angle, also parts of the sky. I thought about the fact that everything used in this piece would usually be wasted, yet this artist was able to make beautiful art out of the seemingly useless materiel.

As I walked on, I took many pictures to look at and study at a later time. Even though I only could spend a small amount of time on the High Line, I had the chance to appreciate many different forms of art. I hope to come back to the High Line to explore more of its intriguing and captivating pieces.