The Worst show

“The worst show I’ve ever fucking seen”

By Kelly White

We waited outside in anticipation and excitement for the moment we had all been waiting for. 18 years old. In New York for the First time. On second year A level Art Trip. The windy November weather nipped at our face and hands. We were about to see all the pieces we had only ever read about or seen in books. The atmosphere was electric.

We queued in single file. The register had to be taken. We were 18 but still being kept under the thumb in a country that was foreign to ours.

What needed to be done was then done. We entered.

The Whitney museum of American Art.

The light was stark on entry, which was not complimented by the urban look of the slate tiles and wooden slatted walls. The atmosphere that we had created outside was quickly brought down as we merged into a group of Spanish/Japanese/ French tourists. We’d only just entered but already I was lost.

We walked through to the first room that greeted us.

Placed in the middle of a space that was no bigger than 4 x 5 metres was Andy Warhol’s famous Brillo boxes. My heart skipped a beat. Unfortunately for the boxes, other momentous pop art works encapsulated it on the surrounding walls. People took a glance at the cubes and then turned to look at the 2d work that faced it. The irony was immense. Almost as if everyone had seen Warhol’s boxes so much …that the effect was no longer gratified. One woman trying to look at a Jasper johns on the walls almost stepped straight back onto them.

There was just no respect… they weren’t even cordoned off.

I couldn’t even begin to tell you what works were on the walls... as not only would I of had to of fought 5 dense rows of tourist to get there but due to my height I could see the works themselves.. Were simply crammed together. Much like the tourists that stretched before them.

I then went with the tourist current and got dragged around the rest of the building. I remember being particularly confused/ lost on one of the stairwells. To say the lifts at the Whitney were communal would be an understand statement. I’d say at least 40 people were able to get in, equalling an awkward barrage of “excuse me” if you were to get off at a specific floor.

It was a vast contrast to the Dia: Beacon in upstate New York that we had been to the day before. That was an amazing industrial space, allowing enough space for each of its works.

No crowds, no haste, just art.

I spent the remainder of my time browsing in the shop, along with the majority of my fellow classmates. In the rest of the rooms all the works on the wall were so crammed together, it wasn’t a pleasurable experience, the only word to possibly describe it, would be claustrophobic, and almost disrespectful to the artists and their works. It was almost ironic that all these infamous/famous pop art pieces were not only playing with the mass produced but the mass populated, a barrage of colourful images that were so familiar, you didn’t/ couldn’t have the time to take them in.

I feel the space in which a work is displayed is crucial it can almost make it or break it. The space around a piece should be complimentary to the piece, the space and lighting. I feel that the curators at the Whitney are slightly misinformed on this. Either that or they are trying too hard to be “different”

The highlight of this visit was the weird alternative modern jazz set that was going on in the museums restaurant. Nothing to do with the art.

Over populated, works over crowded not enough appreciated for the masters they held.

All in all, easily the worst fucking show I’ve ever seen.