Posted: Thursday, October 24, 2013
As a preface, I would just like to ask that you not take my excitement about the work above to be some kind of authoritative perspective on it—in other words, that you'll visit the Museum, see this piece and have a great, transcendent epiphany with the swelling baritone of a hallelujah chorus behind you. Perhaps it's just me being overzealous and getting unnecessarily pumped up about something as usual. But, for a second, let's be indulgent and allow me to express how this piece requires you to reconfigure your mind, and just how weird and interesting it is. Let's break it down for a second, shall we?
Posted: Wednesday, October 16, 2013
The idea for our 3D sculpture came together after taking pictures of a Chinese chimera and a bodhisattva from the Asian Art galleries, along with Ritual Seat for a Noble (Osa' osa), currently on view in the Met's Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas galleries. From there, we took each of the photos and stitched them together using 3D printing software.
Posted: Wednesday, October 9, 2013
The inspiration for our 3D scanning and printing workshop project came from our mutual interest in both Asian and Greek mythology. Although we came across many potential subjects while getting to know the Museum's collection, we quickly decided to base our plastic sculpture on Greek mythological figures and Buddhist deities—combining animal and human forms to create a supernatural god.
Posted: Monday, September 30, 2013
Posted: Wednesday, September 18, 2013
As we walked through each gallery of the Met in order to determine the subject for our 3D sculpture, we were immediately inspired by the tranquility of Buddha Preaching the First Sermon at Sarnath in the Asian Art galleries. However, we were also intrigued by the fierceness of the Greek and Roman marble sculptures on display, and elected to combine both the head of the Roman Emperor Hadrian—currently on loan to the Museum—with the body of a lion.
Posted: Friday, August 30, 2013
This past July, we and eight other high school students participated in the Metropolitan Museum's first 3D scanning and printing workshop for teens. During the weeklong intensive, we were introduced to the Met's collections of Asian, American, Oceanian, ancient Egyptian, and Roman art, and we then used specialized printers to convert photographs of some of these objects into 3D models.
Posted: Thursday, August 15, 2013
What happened here? Did someone spill paint on these tiles? Is this supposed to be blood? Is there blood all over the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art?!
Posted: Thursday, August 8, 2013
Upon first seeing Imran Qureshi's installation on the Museum's roof garden, I was immediately struck by how effectively it subverts one's expectations. Along with the rest of the Teen Advisory Group, I was simply informed that we would be visiting a "rooftop installation," which immediately brought to mind the kind of monolithic modernist sculpture that seems to be increasingly ubiquitous in outdoor art installations these days. Surprisingly, though, we were greeted with something much more subtle and thought-provoking.
Posted: Thursday, August 1, 2013
Sudden violence in the United States, especially when unpredictable, triggers an immediate and mass reaction. This is hardly so in the case of Pakistan, however, a country where violence is the norm and not the exception. At the Museum's roof garden this summer, contemporary Pakistani artist Imran Qureshi challenges American viewers to immerse themselves in the bloodbath of civilians killed in sectarian conflicts far away from our own shores.
Posted: Friday, July 26, 2013
Imran Qureshi's installation on the Met's roof is abrupt. Looking across the roof, one is confronted by something of a geological layering. In the foreground, violence and bloodshed come to mind, and behind, the Met's stone superstructure separates you from the immediacy of Central Park's seemingly dense forests. Looking down at your feet, your confidence is partially shattered by the realization that you are walking on paint. Instinctively, my feet searched for an oasis of untainted stone.