| Issue #40, January 12, 2007 |
art commentary
CHRISTMAS IN NEW YORK: SPATIAL DISORIENTATION
Part 4
With Marion Wolberg Weiss
Confessions of an agoraphobic. While most people, especially art critics, are drawn to color and composition and even themes when they visit an exhibit, yours truly is most aware of the setting and spatial configurations: in a word, proximities. Why? Because this critic has an anxiety disorder. Fear of wide-open spaces. No wonder the Guggenheim Museum throws people like me into a panic attack – sweaty palms, fast pulse, severe nausea.
Some art works can do that to a person, but not because the experience of seeing Picasso is so moving. Yet we persevere. We don’t look up when we climb the levels of the Guggenheim; we try to keep our eyes on the paintings themselves. We take the elevator down from the top floor instead of walking. Oh, by the way, we can’t take an elevator by ourselves. We must always have company.
Conversely, the Tate Modern in London is a large space like the Guggenheim but it’s agoraphobic-friendly, because it has distinct, contained floors, and you can see all the way to the top when standing in the lobby. (The Guggenheim’s circle design has no top or “end.”)
Moreover, each level of the Tate contains horizontal railings along with vertical dividers, giving the space a comforting, secure feeling. What’s interesting is the metal and Plexiglas tubular slides from the lobby to the top floor (a work by Carsten Holler) which was there in November. It may seem a bit scary to agoraphobics, but it’s self-contained, avoiding the wide-open spaces and endlessness that send this critic into a tizzy.
Museums that are located in mansions, like the Neue Gallery, the Cooper-Hewitt and the Jewish Museum, are especially friendly as well because the rectangular-shaped rooms have boundaries we can see. The staircases that connect the floors are handy for gripping too. Certainly, the presence of lamps and plants and even an inside gazebo (the Cooper-Hewitt) helps make the setting warm and familiar, like someone’s living room. (And these spaces really were someone’s living room. )
Galleries are another story. Particularly gallery neighborhoods.
For example, there’s quite a difference between SoHo and Chelsea, where large buildings house diverse art spaces and where conformity and claustrophobia rule the spatial roost. This critic will take the East Village and the old days where storefront galleries were spatially unique. And non-threatening to the agoraphobic.
Remember, however, this important fact: the next time a critic says your work puts them in a tizzy. It might not be a compliment.
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