At the Guggenheim

NYC, April 2018 –

We have written previously on the pleasing facade and innards of the building.

Now to the guts, namely the hanging lute of the art, and its reverberations.

This was not quite as splendid, unfortunately. The main exhibit appeared to be a collection of rubbish from a garage, otherwise described as ‘Take My Breath Away,’ a series of “contemporary sculptures, works on paper and installations” by someone called Danh Vo.

A minor showing featured tired Mike Rothko imitations by Josef Albers from his wanderings in Mexico, and there were a few pieces by Constantin Brancusi (1876-1957) that revealed him as neither Alexandros, nor Rodin, nor even Henry Moore.  We thought this the best of them::

The Thannhauser Collection is a permanent stock of impressionists, post-impressionists, abstract expressionists and beyond.  We didn’t mind this Kandinsky:

…or this Picasso, stowing the misogyny for once, and offering a pleasing image very like the album cover of Elvis Costello’s 1982 record, Imperial Bedroom:

P wanted to re-visit his favourite – in fact the best – hot dog stand, but it had moved on, replaced by ice cream vans playing “Pop Goes the Weasel” and pretzel caravans. Where was my hot-dog stand – P felt like Burt Lancaster in The Swimmer! It was enough, what with the depressing paucity of art on show at the Gugg, to drive one to contemplate some performance art (swan dive) from the top tier: