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.
Posted: Friday, July 19, 2013
The Iris and B. Gerald Cantor Roof Garden at the Metropolitan Museum is a magnificent place to exhibit art high above Central Park. You have the warm sun, the sounds of nature, the clear blue sky, the green foliage, and a breathtaking view of the concrete jungle around you. Walking out onto the roof recently, I expected to see an immense sculpture. Instead, I was greeted by Pakistani artist Imran Qureshi's painted installation.
Posted: Friday, July 12, 2013
I learned from visiting PUNK: Chaos to Couture that punk was an ironic movement and that its irony has contributed to its staying power. When punk started in the mid-1970s, it was dealing with a social landscape that had lost sight of its goals. The hippies said they wanted a revolution, but changing the world is not a passive exercise. That's where the punks came in.
Posted: Friday, July 5, 2013
In my drawing at left, I wanted to create a visual response of sorts to what I saw in PUNK: Chaos to Couture, namely the D.I.Y.: Hardware gallery.
Posted: Monday, July 1, 2013
Shhhh! The dresses in the D.I.Y.: Hardware gallery in PUNK: Chaos to Couture are punk undercover. In contrast to the more obviously punk shirts, pants, trash-bag dresses, and tie-dye ball gowns in the rest of the exhibition, these clothes are not necessarily meant to be punk. It is obvious, however, that they are indeed influenced by punk style.
Posted: Friday, June 21, 2013
The punk aesthetic of the 1970s, its underground survival throughout the 1980s, and its high-fashion revival in the 1990s have profoundly shaped what it means to be a rebellious youth. To be punk means to express one's disillusionment with the status quo and to challenge it.