Do I sound a little bitter? I’m kidding. Mostly.
There are few artistic endeavors I enjoy more than a good installation. The work of Olafur Eliasson thrills me. And I couldn’t get enough of The Gates in Central Park. So whenever there’s a new one on the horizon (large or small), Joe and I always try to go see it.
He and I had both separately heard about the upcoming exhibit, The Rain Room, at MOMA weeks, if not months, before it arrived. We talked about how we definitely should go. And then it opened. And we were busy. And it became “a thing.” Which happens in a city the size of New York, especially in this day and age where everyone is tweeting and instagramming their every move and showing how cool they are that they saw it first. So the lines became long. Really long. Like eight hours long. And somehow, the Rain Room no longer seemed worth it. It had become more about the bragging rights than the actual art.
This past weekend, we went to go see the Voice Tunnel, an installation by Mexican-Canadian artist Rafael Lozano-Hemmer. He managed to turn the 1,400 foot long Park Avenue Tunnel into an interactive light and sound show. As we approached the tunnel, we saw a line. An endless line. A wrap around the block, and then another, and then another kind of line. Oh no, it’s another Rain Room, I feared. But, happily, the tunnel had the capacity to hold many more people at one time and we only ended up waiting about 15 minutes. The tunnel was super cool both because of the installation and because this was the first time ever it had been closed to cars and opened to pedestrian traffic.
So, F*%k the Rain Room. As much as I love New York, I guess this kind of “I did it first. I’m cooler than you.” mentality is one of downsides of living here.
Don’t even get me started about Cronuts.