April 31 Blanton Museum Opening Night for Students.
Here I am, the self-professed Modernist enthusiast, and you'd think I'd be drooling inanely at the unveiling of the Blanton Museum. I took dozens of pictures to illustrate the bare, vertical walls of the building complete with hip track lighting knocked casually askew from the assumed targeted parallel trajectories. From the outside, you could hear a fat beat being laid by a happenin' d.j. turn-tabling the night's first two hours worth of soundtrack, and I was greeted by the evening's first work of art.  Whether intentional or not, the initial irony floated me through the bustling entrance, taking me by caterers pouring the latest energy fizz into plastic cups and by piles of crème puffs and potato chips. Yummy. I was initially really happy with the atmosphere—it wasn't too uncomfortable, and my only wish was that I might have dressed up a little more. However, after the standard anti-war art pieces and 20 crème puffs later, I started getting really aggravated. Sure, I really like the construction's simplicity, but at what point has the simplicity turned into an obnoxiously contrived space? The construction seemed devoid of creativity or heart, but yet painstakingly planned and preened. These elements seemed completely incongruent. It reminded me of the Ruskin's frustration of defining Gothic, and what makes a building worthy of that title. I figured I was just being hyper critical as some sort of defense mechanism initiated by the pressure I felt to be in the know about art. It seemed as if I should carefully mull over the deeper meanings of every work, even if it completely bored me. But from room to room, especially upstairs, I got turned around and confused as the blindingly white walls provided no distinction of their save for the works of art hanging on the walls. I continually returned to the refuge of this huge open room, because it was the only was for me to regain my bearings. The bodies sprawled across the floor were engaged in their own art works, and this reminded me of Bump's Alice day and Capital excursion. I really like the fact that the people drawing weren't all very good at it, and were doing it for the fun of it. It was a genuine release and form of entertainment, and seemed to be one of the least annoying aspects of the visit.
Some of my favorite pieces of art were in this space too. Many brightly colored works hung on the walls, and often on huge canvasses.
The great thing about the museum was that it equalized the talents among genders. I usually hate the fact that women are underrepresented in almost every profession. Here, women were painting pictures. There also was a fair sampling of images of the female.
After spending two hours there, we were finally driven away by the band that followed the DJ. The crème puffs were gone, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of art I had taken in. Maybe I'll go back when there aren't as many people and I feel more comfortable with the situation. To view all of the pictures I took at the museum, go to this link, and click on pictures with Blanton in their name. https://webspace.utexas.edu/nkw84/churchblantonetc |
