While walking on Fifty-third Street, I pass corporate buildings, retail stores and halal stands. Not the sites I expect to see near a world famous museum. Brushing off my surprise, I arrive to my destination and briefly stand at the entrance. Only revolving doors are used to enter. I hate revolving doors.
Employees are selling tickets while visitors are sprawled along the strangely shaped seats. I get my ticket, check-in my bag, and my first visit to the Museum of Modern Art begins.
Roberta Smith’s unfavorable review of the Modern’s recent addition, the American Modern exhibit, is fresh in my mind as I creep up the stairs expecting a tasteless collection of art, too artsy for me to comprehend. After a sharp left followed by two glass doors, not the revolving type, I find myself in a relatively small room with art. Modern American Art.
Edward Hopper’s Lonely House is the first piece I see. I expect a large, grandiose work with abstract shapes and vibrant colors. Lonely House is no bigger than my hand, black and white, and depicts a house. I stare in disbelief. People look over my shoulder and move on while I slowly realize that I have much to learn about art. I continue.
A collage of what seems to be random objects is next in the exhibit. Arthur Dove mounts mirrored plates, springs, steel wool, glue, nails and a lens on a board. I see my reflection in the plate. Now this deserves to be in the Museum of Modern Art. I gawk at the creativity behind it, but I soon think, what is it? If it has no meaning, is it still considered art? If no, what is the meaning? Questions pile on top of one another and I have no answers. I am too embarrassed to ask my questions to those around me, even though they may know little more than I do. I continue.
Georgia O’Keefe is next. I see beautiful watercolor, charcoal and pastel paintings. Exactly what I imagine when modern art is mentioned. From the few of her paintings on display, Train at Night in the Desert is my favorite. Describing the physical features of the piece is difficult, but I can express the memories and emotions it evokes. I remember the boring days spent riding my bike with a few dollars in my pocket and a friend accompanying me. The days of pure content. Many people are surrounding O’Keefe’s work so I assume she is a well-known artist. I continue.
I literally walk into the next section, which is a whole wall dedicated to Charles Burchfield’s work. Charles Burchfield “was an American painter and visionary artist,” and his paintings are amazing. Sunflowers are in many of his pieces, all with vivid color and abstract qualities. Spending time observing his ten pieces on display, I wish I knew more about art so I can truly appreciate his paintings. I vow that next time I visit The Modern I will be well informed on the history and implications of art. With that in mind, I continue.
Joseph Stella’s First Light is to the left of Burchfield’s wall. I take a quick glance and move on. However, I soon remember that understanding art takes time. Rushing back, I stare intently. Waiting patiently for a revelation. I notice the layers. The bottom is green with grey, yellow and blue following. A green blob resembling a tree is in the center and I do not know how to interpret it. Questions quickly form, but I ignore them. I want to come to a conclusion, but I cannot. Am I asking the right questions or is asking questions wrong? Will an emotional response click like with other paintings? Once again, I have much to learn and I continue.
Ben Shahn, known for his social realist work, follows Stella. A photograph and a painting of his are shown together in the American Modern Exhibit. The painting matches the photograph, both depicting a group of men playing handball in 1939. Even with my limited knowledge of art I know social realism when I see it. Shahn is depicting the life of hard working immigrants at the time. I am proud that I know something about art, albeit one painting and photograph. With some gained confidence I continue.
Finally, my favorite artist, Jacob Lawerance, is next. Lawerance deemed his art as dynamic cubism and specialized in displaying African American struggle. I instantly connect with Lawerances work because I see exactly what he wants to convey. Pain. He makes the pain and adversity of African Americans very clear, not through physical depictions, but through symbolic representations. His use of dark and bold colors contrast one another shows conflict and struggle.
After seeing several additional pieces, I finish my visit to the American Modern exhibit. My main thought is that Roberta Smith’s review the American Modern Exhibit is far too critical. Smith attacks the Modern by saying that “it can often be found paddling about in the lukewarm waters of the shallow end.” As a well-informed art critic, Smith has more voice in the art world than I do, but I still believe The Museum of Modern Art displays several revolutionary selections of art. Ivan Le Lorraine’s painting, Albright Woman, being one of these selections.
The American Modern Exhibit is small and I left wondering why an exhibit was dedicated to American made art. The fact that all of the pieces in the room are American made does not leave me with a sense of national pride. Art is universal and the works shown deserve to be displayed with the rest of the art in the museum. While the artist’s pieces in the American Modern Exhibit is wonderful to see, I only wish it was side-by-side other works from around the world.
