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.

Francois-Xavier Lalanne’s sheep sculptures on Michael Shvo’s Getty Station is a striking combination of urban and rural: so bourgeois yet so unexpected. It’s hard to decide whether the grazing sheep intruded upon the gas station or if the gas station is paving over the pasture. Really, the grass was there first, but it’s hard to imagine grass dominating over something industrial in the city. One would not think to combine the two, yet upon seeing it, the two work in perfect harmony together. One similarity between the two seemingly opposite, a gas station and a meadow, is their usefulness. Gas and technology is what powers most of us through our days, yet we don’t stop to appreciate the equally important role that plain fresh air plays in our lives. This public art display is a creative way of expressing the “go green!” motto, and capturing the attention of anyone who passes by. Or, reminding people of the good old days when gas was still less than $3.

Pieter Hugo, in his art exhibit at the Yossi Milo gallery, Kin, focuses on the racism and disadvantages that black Africans face in South Africa. While apartheid may have ended, the discrimination hasn’t. He explores the pitiable Africans’ homes and lives making us wonder how the whites can let the Africans survive day-to-day like this? When race permeates every aspect of society for the worst, so does the question of how to handle it. In one picture, a young boy is seen begging on the streets of South Africa where his skin, caked with dirt, actually looks silver. This is probably the epitome of poverty from the eyes of a New Yorker; however, it’s commonplace in South Africa. The hopelessness in his eyes combined with the blurry outline of Spanish-tiled roof houses in the background magnifies the striking injustice and destitution that the Africans face, where all-powerful whites are but a mere fraction.

Even for a self-proclaimed artist living in New York City, Manhattan’s Chelsea gave me a serious case of culture shock. There is art behind glass doors, art seen through windows, art on intimidating white walls, and art on the streets themselves. The Chelsea Galleries are a series of intimate yet intimidating spaces which barely recall their colossal cousins the MoMA and the MET, but that makes it all the more exciting when you find yourself drawn to a particular piece/exhibit (I guess I like the thrill of the hunt?).

Dormitory, Model 1:5 by Martin Honert (http://www.artnet.com/artwork/426285836/706/martin-honert-dormitory-model-15.html)

I found myself particularly enthralled with one of Martin Honert’s pieces at the Matthew Marks Gallery,  Dormitory, Model 1:5. My attraction to this piece begins with my affinity for dioramas, as I love the implied nostalgia and sense of wonder such little worlds create. Honert’s dormitory model is heavy with eerie nostalgia; the bareness of it recalls the unreliability of even the strongest memories, and the light which emanates from the furniture adds an interesting paranormal effect.

(http://www.e-flux.com/announcements/comma-21-martin-honert/)

Additionally, a close up proves that the piece is gorgeous in its own right. Honart’s rendering of the wooden surfaces and manipulation of the material into dimpled cushions is impressive and elevates the piece from simply a diorama to fine art.