<\/p>\n
G<\/font>oing to the Museum of Modern Art is something that many of us have been doing for almost as long as we\u2019ve been alive. When we first went there as kids or adolescents, we accepted MOMA<\/font> as an all-encompassing, almost undifferentiated experience\u2014a saturation in images, images that were presented in a sequence of boxy white galleries. We went there for the total experience of modern art; exploring those galleries was like wandering through the mind of modern art. At MOMA<\/span>, Picasso and Matisse and the Surrealists were things that we took in along with photography and architectural models, and it was no sin that great art and good taste went hand in hand. That the Modern was in midtown, in the midst of the bustle of the business and shopping districts, was important, too. When we went through the doors of MOMA<\/span>, it was as if the real world ended and the realer world of art began. And somehow the heightened experience of art came to be associated with the heightened experience that was the city itself. To walk out of the Museum of Modern Art at rush hour, onto the surging sidewalks of midtown, is still an awesome experience.<\/p>\n Things other than art went on at\u00a0MOMA<\/span>, too. There was the cafeteria for snacks and the sculpture garden for daydreaming, and when you got to the point when you were into boy-girl things, you could go and pick up or be picked up in that sculpture garden, something that\u2019s become a clich\u00e9, a Woody Allen subject, but really happens, nonetheless. In short, MOMA<\/span>\u00a0was a part of life, and as you developed you could go to MOMA<\/span>\u00a0and think all sorts of thoughts, including ones about what modern art was and wasn\u2019t. The Modern\u2019s beautiful, sometimes seminal publications were the beginning of many a library of books about modern art. And if you kept learning about art, you would finally realize that\u00a0MOMA<\/span>\u00a0was only one version of modern art, only part of the story. MOMA<\/span>\u00a0introduced us to Picasso and Matisse, and if it had not done so we could never have gone on to decide that their<\/i> Picasso and Matisse were not necessarily ours, that perhaps we liked a lot of what they had excluded. The Modern presented a Great Tradition, and every such tradition has its predispositions and prejudices. Sometimes the Modern even created a stir by reacting against its own predispositions, as when it exhibited Beaux-Arts architectural drawings as a sort of critique of the museum\u2019s original less-is-more philosophy.<\/p>\n The Modern\u2019s beautiful, sometimes seminal publications were the beginning of many a library of books about modern art.<\/p>\n Practically since the museum was founded at the end of the 1920s, artists have been complaining that\u00a0MOMA\u00a0<\/span>wasn\u2019t modern enough, that it was refusing to see what modern art really was. Decades ago, the American Abstract Artists group picketed the museum, angry that Alfred H. Barr, Jr., the museum\u2019s guiding spirit, saw modernism as almost exclusively European. The Modern\u2019s predisposition toward painterliness and Paris at the expense of international Constructivism was part of what galled the AAA<\/span>, and this has turned out to be a lasting predisposition: it has had a profound impact on how the history of modern art has been written. One may also wonder how the history of modern art would look if MOMA<\/span>\u00a0had been more sympathetic to the representational strains in modern art in, say, 1920s Paris or 1950s New York. I frame these questions about modern art according to MOMA<\/span>\u00a0in terms of my own prejudices and predispositions; everybody has his own feelings about what MOMA<\/span>\u00a0has overemphasized or missed out on. There were always a lot of artists who found the Modern\u2019s exhibitions of good design a little\u2014or even very\u2014silly. Some have looked at the museum\u2019s forays into contemporary art\u2014whether the \u201cInformation\u201d show of 1970 or the \u201cInternational Survey of Recent Painting and Sculpture\u201d of 1984\u2014and been horrified. Others have regretted, especially in recent years, that the museum hasn\u2019t been keeping up. Then again, as Kirk Varnedoe, the museum\u2019s Director of the Department of Painting and Sculpture, discovered when he organized \u201cHigh & Low: Modern Art and Popular Culture\u201d last year, one can try to be hip and get shot down by the hipsters. SoHo\u2019s reaction to that show was, \u201cHow dare MOMA<\/font> tell us<\/i> about popular culture!\u201d<\/p>\n Robert Storr, who was named a curator in the Department of Painting and Sculpture at the Modern just over a year ago, is forty years old, an age that would suggest that the museum is for him, as it is for a lot of us, both paradigm and dinosaur. Storr, who has in recent years gained something of a reputation as a critic and a curator, is now in the position to shape our perceptions of this institution which has shaped us all. I would expect that Storr, who was brought to the museum to focus on contemporary art, is in general agreement with the way the history of modern art is presented at MOMA<\/span>. In his writings he has often supported contemporary artists who see themselves as responding in one way or another to some generally agreed upon idea of the modern tradition\u2014an idea of the modern tradition that is spelled out at the Museum of Modern Art. But the first major exhibition that Storr has organized at MOMA<\/span>, called \u201cDis<\/i>locations,\u201d suggests that he believes that this modern tradition is not a prologue but a finished thing.1<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0\u201cDis<\/i>locations,\u201d which consists of seven installations by seven artists, isn\u2019t an exhibition that attempts to establish connections to MOMA<\/span> modernism. The artists\u2014 they are Louise Bourgeois, Chris Burden, Sophie Calle, David Hammons, Ilya Kabakov, Bruce Nauman, and Adrian Piper\u2014 present their own values in conscious and even self-conscious opposition to MOMA<\/font> modernism.<\/p>\n Even before Robert Storr\u2019s arrival at\u00a0\u00a0MOMA<\/span>, it had been obvious that Kirk Varnedoe wanted to criticize the museum\u2019s grand-old-man role. Of the first three offerings in the \u201cArtist\u2019s Choice\u201d series, which brings artists into the museum to act as curators, only one, Ellsworth Kelly\u2019s 1990 \u201cFragmentation and the Single Form,\u201d has been an attempt to build on MOMA<\/font> modernism. Scott Burton\u2019s 1989 show, \u201cBurton on Brancusi,\u201d was a literal deconstruction: a number of Brancusis were separated from their bases. Earlier this year, Chuck Close stuffed so many images into one room for his show of portraits that it looked like the chock-a-block visuals of a cheapo auction house. Strangely, the Burton and Close shows were so much about imposing a personal vision on the Museum of Modern Art that they ended up by confirming the absoluteness of the Modern\u2019s viewpoint. There must be an alternative to deconstructing\u00a0MOMA<\/span>\u00a0other than the sort of thing we got in the Kelly show, which was a rehash of MOMA<\/font> formalism. But it seems that the artists whom\u00a0MOMA<\/span>\u00a0looks to now accept MOMA<\/font> modernism so absolutely that they can only absolutely accept it or absolutely reject it.<\/p>\n \u201cDis<\/i>locations\u201d amounts to seven rejections, the frankest being Sophie Calle\u2019s installation, which is a sort of reversal of the \u201cArtist\u2019s Choice\u201d idea. Instead of bringing together works from the permanent collection in a new way, Calle calls our attention to a number of works that have been removed from the permanent collection. (The press publicity for the show hastens to assure us that these works are either in conservation or on loan, and will soon return.) Calle has replaced these modern icons with wall panels that consist of thumbnail sketches of the missing works and remarks that people on the museum staff have made about the originals. Visitors to the permanent collection come upon these wall exhibits and read them and laugh at the occasionally funny things the staffers have to say about, among others, a Seurat, a de Chirico, a Delvaux. One comment is from a staffer who once bought a postcard of the Seurat landscape to send to his or her father but never did, so that the Seurat always brings up in this person\u2019s mind a vague feeling of guilt. This is the kind of mild stuff of which Sophie Calle\u2019s installation is constructed. Yet \u201cDis<\/i>locations\u201d is not a mild show.<\/p>\n \u201cD<\/font>is<\/i>locations\u201d takes up a hell of a lot of room at the Museum of Modern Art. It occupies all the basement exhibition space, a good deal of square-footage on the third floor, and spills through the galleries devoted to the permanent collection on the second floor. The artists gobble up space, or at least redecorate it. Adrian Piper uses lots of white formica. David Hammons uses lots of leaves and sandbags and confetti and balloons. Video and photography get into the act. Among the work included you\u2019ll find installations that talk, shriek, move, and even molt. You know that Storr and the artists are thinking big from the moment when you descend the escalator to the museum\u2019s basement galleries and hear a heavily amped male voice yelling \u201cFeed me. Help me. Eat me. Hurt me.\u201d The voice comes from the mouth of a man whose bald head fills a number of video monitors and video wall projections that make up Bruce Nauman\u2019s Anthro\/Socio<\/i> installation. Nauman\u2019s piece is a gallery-devourer\u2014it takes up almost as much space as it took last season to survey the lifework of the Russian Constructivist Liubov Popova. At \u201cDis<\/i>locations,\u201d size counts. It\u2019s the artists\u2019\u2014and the curator\u2019s\u2014way of telling us that the Modern has finally decided that contemporary art counts.<\/p>\n A writer close to Storr recently explained that the italics in the show\u2019s title are meant to \u201chighlight a bit of African-American slang: \u2018Dis\u2019 meaning \u2018deliberate disrespect.\u2019 So a dis<\/i>location would be any place of calculated affront to somebody\u2019s or something\u2019s dignity.\u201d Basically, the show is designed as an affront to the Museum of Modern Art\u2019s dignity\u2014to the dignity of people like Varnedoe\u2019s predecessor, William Rubin, who dare to think that they have gathered together in one place something like the best of modern art. That huge dark video chamber of Nauman\u2019s isn\u2019t so much a free-standing statement as it is a dissing of things we\u2019ve seen in these galleries before\u2014of \u201cPicasso and Braque: Pioneering Cubism,\u201d of \u201cPaul Klee,\u201d of \u201cLe Douanier Rousseau\u201d and many more. Calle\u2019s installation in the permanent collection is a more literal version of dissing. I don\u2019t think that a little dissing is necessarily a bad thing; there have been days when I\u2019ve found MOMA<\/font>\u2019s view of modernism\u2014even MOMA<\/span>\u2019s view of Matisse and Braque\u2014so stale, I could have done a little dissing myself. We\u2019ve all grown up with the Museum of Modern Art, and at times we want and need to get mad at the museum. But it\u2019s natural that those who are witnessing the protests are going to ask the protesters what they can offer us in place of the dignity they\u2019re mocking. This is where the evasiveness of\u201cDis<\/i>locations\u201d comes into play.<\/p>\n Critics, pro and con, emphasize the content of \u201cDis<\/i>locations.\u201d<\/p>\n Critics, pro and con, emphasize the content of \u201cDis<\/i>locations.\u201d One writer observed that \u201cthe show comes at you from all sides, often with the tribulations of war, colonialism, racial prejudice, childhood pain, memory and simple human existence utmost on its mind.\u201d These are the business-as-usual themes of late-1980s and early-1990s art, and the seven installations are conventional run-throughs of these themes, presented in the minimalist or happening styles that were first seen in the 1960s and 1970s and have now become new versions of retro style. (It should be noted that many of the artists included in this show are not young, and actually first came to prominence in the 1960s and 1970s. As for Louise Bourgeois, the beginnings of her career date back to the 1930s.) David Hammons\u2019s installation, with a photographic mock-up of an equestrian statue of Theodore Roosevelt surrounded by sandbags, a machine gun, and a lot of other stuff, is an Allan Kaprow retread; Adrian Piper\u2019s white room with a video of a black man saying, \u201cI\u2019m not sneaky, I\u2019m not scary . . .\u201d is politicized Minimalism, as is Chris Burden\u2019s Other Vietnam Memorial<\/i>, a giant copper Rolodex engraved with Vietnamese names; Ilya Kabakov\u2019s wrecked meeting room is more Allan Kaprow stuff; and Louise Bourgeois\u2019s kinetic phallic gas tanks are more Sixties brutalism. I\u2019m emphasizing style over content, because it\u2019s mostly the artists\u2019 stylistic choices that make an impression at \u201cDis<\/i>locations.\u201d Going through the show, I didn\u2019t find myself thinking very much about sex or race or class. I find that the politics that dominates \u201cDis<\/i>locations\u201d is art-world politics\u2014the politics of who will shape the Museum of Modern Art. Race, gender, imperialism are merely the ordinary topics of contemporary art, in this sense no more or less worthy than the ordinary topics of the art of a hundred years ago, which were, come to think of it, not that different: orientalism, motherhood, imperialism (seen then from the victor\u2019s point of view).<\/p>\n At the heart of \u201cDis<\/i>locations\u201d is an utterly weird phenomenon: the institution that\u2019s being dislocated is giving dignity to the dislocators. This is the most significant political transaction that is going on here; and to the pro-\u201cDis<\/i>locations\u201d crowd that says the exhibition is a triumph for progressive social politics, I say that the whole enterprise is cynical, that legitimate social issues are being used as a smoke screen for what is basically art-world politics. Kirk Varnedoe, who hired Storr, is a man who desperately wants to turn the Museum of Modern Art into the hot museum of contemporary art. He needs to do this, because contemporary art is where the money and the glamour are. So Robert Storr has brought in seven artists to dis the Museum of Modern Art. The Modern becomes hip. And in exchange the Modern bestows upon the artists the very dignity they are there to dis. And everybody\u2019s happy.<\/p>\n I<\/font>nstallation art has always been about takeovers, about radical transformations. Claes Oldenburg\u2019s Store<\/i>, Gordon Matta-Clark\u2019s split houses, Walter de Maria\u2019s New York Earth Room<\/i>: these are about something dramatic that is done to an environment. I think that these gestures, even when they are amusing or provocative, are so broad as to defy sustained attention. Nonetheless, I think that installations can have the impact of diverting theatrical events, and as such add something to the sum of our experience. But when the image of the museum becomes the thing that is being taken over or transformed, we have to ask ourselves exactly what is being lost and what is being gained. Adrian Piper\u2019s video installation makes a legitimate point about black rage and white racism; yes, many people would look at the black man in this video and think, simply because he is black, that he\u2019s sneaky, he\u2019s scary . . .\u00a0But Piper\u2019s point could be made as easily\u2014and would reach more people\u2014on a series of posters in the subway. Taking up an entire room at the Modern, Piper\u2019s installation isn\u2019t so much a statement against racism as a statement against the complex self-contained world that is the work of art\u2014any work of art. Judged as art, the Piper\u2014and all the rest of the stuff in this show\u2014is, even if we give it the benefit of the doubt, just too slight and overblown to deserve this exposure. And the shock value that political art can sometimes have is diminished in the museum context. What the artists in \u201cDis<\/i>locations\u201d are really doing is aestheticizing politics, and then using this aestheticized politics as a battering ram with which to gain access to the museum. With Storr in charge, the museum is lying down and playing dead for these artists.<\/p>\n Museums rarely have known what to do with contemporary art.<\/p>\n Museums rarely have known what to do with contemporary art. William Rubin\u2019s several attempts to present Frank Stella as the heir to MOMA<\/span>\u2019s traditions were farfetched, contrived, deeply academic. The Museum of Modern Art was invented, in some sense, as a retrospective adventure, and its finest moments have always been in that spirit. The many newer museums that have arisen in the Modern\u2019s long shadow are all attempts to deal with the problem of how the mission of the museum, which is essentially one of preservation, can be reconciled with a lively interest in the art of the present. There are things that will never be comfortable in a museum. Don Judd\u2019s work, for instance, which comes out of an installation sensibility, only looks effective when the artist has total control\u2014as he does when he has a one-man show in a gallery. How art ends up in the museums is an imperfect process at best; but in spite of all the violence done in the name of making museums more contemporary, I would not say that they should ignore the art of the present. Every once in a while something important and contemporary gets into a museum, and those occasions, however infrequent, when the tradition connects with the present, must remain possibilities.<\/p>\n For all I know, Robert Storr will next present us with a MOMA<\/font> show of paintings on canvas, of sculptures on pedestals. I would not put it past him to turn around and present himself as a defender of tradition. A painter I know remarked, on hearing about the plans for \u201cDis<\/i>locations,\u201d \u201cOh, you mean to say that the Modern has a new curator of painting and sculpture and his first show isn\u2019t painting and isn\u2019t sculpture.\u201d Storr is a man who is clever enough to have taken that complaint into consideration. \u201cDis<\/i>locations\u201d is the essential dramatic opening career move; beyond this, I expect that Storr has all the bases covered. He likes to make contributions to symposia and magazines in defense of the artist\u2019s freedom of speech. (This is perfectly fine, and takes about as much courage as defending apple pie in Middle America.) He\u2019s also a formalist who is eager to explicate a contemporary concept of a late style, with examples gleaned from the work of Philip Guston and Willem de Kooning. Storr will probably have a long and successful career at the Museum of Modern Art. He couldn\u2019t have had a better start than \u201cDis<\/i>locations,\u201d for here he has delivered to his director and his trustees the show they\u2019ve longed for: an exhibition that at last makes MOMA<\/font> a leader on the contemporary scene. Move over Whitney, the Modern has arrived. And when the Modern goes contemporary, it does so with an \u00e9lan, a kind of money, an aura of independence that\u2019s way beyond the Whitney.<\/p>\n With the Modern coming down with what may be a chronic case of hipness, we can only thank our lucky stars that Alfred H. Barr, Jr., William Rubin, and the rest of the people who have made the museum what it is had such a rock-solid idea of what they were about. Their modernist orthodoxy is anything but the full story of modern art, and I for one do not think that they should ever be forgiven their acceptance of Pop Art, their glorification of the Abstract Expressionists, their trivializing and fashion-following. This museum, in spite of all its white rooms, has never been lily white. But whatever the complicated transactions that have gone on between the Modern and the wider art scene, the people who were in charge at MOMA<\/font> for half a century managed to build a great orthodox institution: the Museum of Modern Art provides us with a way of making sense of art. We may rebel against the orthodoxy, but we can never forget it, because it is rooted in that extraordinary permanent collection that we go away from and come back to and measure ourselves and our knowledge against for as long as we care about modern art. I\u2019d seen \u201cDis<\/i>locations\u201d on opening night, when the whole world was there. I went back late on a Monday afternoon, when the galleries weren\u2019t crowded at all. Some people had clearly come that Monday afternoon to see \u201cDis<\/i>locations,\u201d but I think that far more people were there to see the permanent collection, to see the Picassos and Matisses and Mondrians and Klees. Chances are that in the coming years the Modern\u2019s permanent collection is going to look like a monument under siege. But who can doubt that this collection will remain, despite the assaults of Sophie Calle, Scott Burton, and whoever else, New York City\u2019s number one monument to modern art? And who can doubt that we will keep going there and drawing our own conclusions? It\u2019s a monument that can make the dislocators of this world look very, very small. Robert Storr may hold a distinguished position at the Museum of Modern Art, but even in its degenerated state the institution towers so high above him, it leaves him looking like a dust speck. Stuart Davis at the Met by Hilton Kramer<\/i> The New York of Dawn Powell by Lauren Weiner<\/i> Calder at the Whitney by Karen Wilkin<\/i> Anthony Trollope by Roger Kimball<\/i> \u201cCirca 1492\u201d by Creighton Gilbert<\/i> Fiction chronicle by Bruce Bawer<\/i> The Morgan Beatus by Deborah Rosenthal<\/i> Mordecai Richler\u2019s war by Julian Symons<\/i> <\/p>\n<\/p>\n Notes<\/b> <\/p>\n On \u201cDislocations\u201d at MOMA.<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1586,"featured_media":129690,"template":"","tags":[647],"department_id":[557],"issue":[3193],"section":[],"acf":{"participants":{"simple_value_formatted":"","value_formatted":null,"value":null,"field":{"ID":0,"key":"field_65fd9fbaa0408","label":"Authors","name":"participants","aria-label":"","prefix":"acf","type":"user","value":null,"menu_order":0,"instructions":"","required":0,"id":"","class":"","conditional_logic":0,"parent":"group_647e2b3c6941d","wrapper":{"width":"","class":"","id":""},"role":"","return_format":"array","multiple":1,"allow_null":0,"bidirectional":0,"bidirectional_target":[],"_name":"participants","_valid":1}},"page_number":{"simple_value_formatted":46,"value_formatted":46,"value":"46","field":{"ID":0,"key":"field_647e2bc0c860c","label":"Page Number","name":"page_number","aria-label":"","prefix":"acf","type":"number","value":null,"menu_order":1,"instructions":"","required":0,"id":"","class":"","conditional_logic":0,"parent":"group_647e2b3c6941d","wrapper":{"width":"","class":"","id":""},"default_value":"","min":"","max":"","placeholder":"","step":"","prepend":"","append":"","_name":"page_number","_valid":1}},"featured_image_credits":{"simple_value_formatted":"\u201cDislocations\u201d at MOMA. 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