The first time I ever visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art was also the same day I went to go see the “Anthony Caro on the Roof” Exhibit. I won’t be blunt, my expectations were high. I traveled for two hours, maneuvering my way through a subway system that didn’t have the train I needed running and walking through Central Park. Finally, I found my way to the museum and was amazed at just the exterior. The fountains were amazing, and the people outside just the same.
Eventually, my group made it onto the roof. Before even passing through the doors, the sound of laughter, chatter and pointless conversation filled the air. The first thing I laid eyes on wasn’t even the art. It happened to be the bars perfectly placed at either end of the exhibit. These bars were clamored with adults who would be willing to pay a ridiculously high price for a martini, only to lay it down later on one of the pieces of art. My next image though, was of the outrageously large steel structures that had been placed (randomly, I think) on the roof. These “pieces of art” were supposed to be the focal point of everything that was going on the roof. These pretentious, seemingly-self absorbed people were not at all interested in what was placed there for them to view. Even the beautiful skyline (that was so pretty I had to take a picture of it) wasn’t good enough to hold their interest. There were so many of these characters on the roof that even if I were intrigued by the art, I would not have been able to appreciate it.
The crowd definitely influenced the way I took in the entire exhibit. Rather than interpret the art, I spent most of my time trying to listen to the conversation of these “intellectuals” to see if they were even talking about the art themselves. My conclusion? Absolutely no one was. I heard one couple talk of their trip to a foreign country, and another speak of the work they had to do at the office. Instead of Anthony Caro’s art being viewed, it was being used as a place to “hang out” for the upper-class of NYC. Being there on a Friday night made me feel extremely out of place, and I got my fair share of condescending stares.
Unfortunately, my opinion is that the scene was more interesting than the artwork itself. Maybe had I gone on a Tuesday night as opposed to a Friday, the scene might have been different but there’s no telling now. The artwork was overcome by the wealthy upper class New Yorker’s who, hopefully unintentionally, polluted the roof with their care free, and uninterested regard.
