Tag Archives: Jerry Saltz

Another Kippenberger at MoMA video?

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Some might say I’m cannibalizing my own content value by showing you another, better (in some respects) video of the Martin Kippenberger exhibition. My video is here, by the way.

This video tour is by New York Magazine art critic Jerry Saltz. I knew something like this was in the works. When I was doing the a little video reconnaissance, I bumped into Saltz, a camera guy, and a MoMA employee. I followed part of their filming through the exhibition and really enjoyed listening to Saltz. Also, watching him stand next to the sculpture Martin, Into the Corner, You Should be Ashamed of Yourself was quite fun.

So in terms of video, let’s see how things stack up.

Jerry Saltz’s Video V. Art Ravel’s Video

Non-shaky camera v. Some very wobbly bits
Clear sound levels v. Awesome soundtrack
Access to exhibition v. Difficulty getting images
Knowledge of artist v. Charmingly fresh perspective (?)

My gorilla effort may not have the polished production of New York Magazine’s; in fact, it barely has transitions. Even so, I think between my music and my lovely self, it’s a fun romp through the MoMA show. Perhaps I’m biased.

*Commenters who prefer my video will be sent a brownie.

Yoga Invades MoMA

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Pippilota Rist’s video and sound installation Pour Your Body Out at MoMA is a engrossing and delicious experience. Lights fill the white walls, and people lay back to watch the film with their shoes off. (The smell of feet is the only disquieting element.) This kind of exhibition could be enjoyed lounging, hungover, and–according to Jerry Saltz at New York Magazine–doing yoga.

To increase engagement with the installation, artist Cheryl Donegan arranged an impromptu yoga demo at MoMA that had museum goers doing triangle poses. If only I had been there! I second Donegin, that audience participation at the exhibition and at theanyspacewhatever exhibition at the Guggenhiem could have been greater, especially at the latter exhibition.

Museum goers are so used to feeling like an audiences that it can be hard to break out of that mold and touch the art and think about space playfully. Saltz describes the experience, in jealousy-inducing terms, thus:

On Friday night, I arrived to find the darkened atrium teeming with hundreds of people; Rist’s wonderful droning, chanting soundtrack filled the air with drowsy delirium, and her images of gigantic naked floating bodies, lush undergrowth, and water filled the walls. A few minutes before the appointed starting time, a dozen or so people, almost all women, shed their coats to reveal work-out clothes. At 7:00 p.m., the tall, fit, and charismatic Auder, outfitted in a gold-lamé leotard and striped leggings, announced that she was leading a free yoga class.