I’ll bet the curator of Crafting Modernism at the Museum of Art and Design didn’t intend for her exhibit to look like hipster version of IKEA, but unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened.
It seemed to me that many of the peices there were functional enough for everyday use, but there was always at least one element that made them completely impractical. Take J.B. Blunk‘s “Scrap Chair” for instance. One half of the chair looks rather inviting, but the other half is composed entirely out of multicolored string, making the work interesting to look at, but not much else. Or, take the wooden baby cradle that doubled as a small wardrobe. Surely, you COULD leave your baby in it, but the woodwork was so dark and menacing I don’t imagine any child would ever enjoy rocking in it.
In terms of showcase, the entire two floors worth of art are poorly lit and difficult to navigate. The only thing stringing these completely unrelated pieces together was their connection to Modernism–which would have been fine if it were better organized. You could start off looking at one of Betty Cooke‘s extravagant, fashion-forward necklaces made of precious metals, soon find yourself face to face with one of Alexander Calder‘s untitled scribble paintings, and then end up staring at Adolph Gottlieb‘s simplistic stained glass without taking more than five or so steps. This idea of mixed mediums pervades through the whole scene with little connectedness between adjacent pieces. Variety is a marvelous thing when kept under control, but when it isn’t, it leaves the viewer disoriented and simply not amused.
Much like a perilous trip to the aforementioned IKEA, you could walk into Crafting Moderning expecting one thing and shuffle out with something completely different, novel, and unexpected. Perhaps, admittedly, I should have looked at the exhibit from more of a traditional artistic standpoint than a design-oriented one, but either way, while Crafting Modernism certainly won’t be the worst display you’ve ever seen, a trip to The Met will more than satisfy any Modernist appetite you may have.
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