I didn’t manage to experience (immersively!) the installation by the conceptual artist Rirkrit Tiravanija at the Hirshhorn last summer, but I did arrange a visit to Glenstone before the end of its similar exhibit. It closes April 5, so there’s still time to immerse yourself.
In the large room holding FEAR EATS THE SOUL, the walls are covered with a growing collection of graffiti, slowly obscuring the enormous, eponymous stenciled exhibit name. The middle of the room holds two enclosures, one with a small display of everyday objects coated in silvery palladium glaze, and one with a working silk-screening studio.
The studio produces tee shirts custom-made to order for visitors, with a choice of absurdist phrases provided by the artist and available for purchase. In order to fully immerse myself in the experience, I ordered one with BRING ON THE LOBSTERS printed in big capital letters. Why that particular phrase? Because it was vaguely food-themed, and reminded me of the Lobster Quadrille in Alice in Wonderland.
And speaking of the Mock Turtle, the element of this exhibit that fetched me out to Glenstone on this day was actually happening at the other end of the cavernous room: tables with big pots of soup, being handed out to visitors by servers who were a lot cheerier than the messages on their aprons. One read, for instance, THE DAYS OF THIS SOCIETY ARE NUMBERED. (But to be fair, another read SOUP FEEDS THE SOUL.) We were then encouraged to sit at picnic tables and eat, and share. I dutifully did so.
It was vegetarian corn soup with lentils and carrots. There were bowls of cheese to be added at one’s discretion. The portions were small. This soup was not meant as nourishment but as symbolism, in keeping with the rest of the exhibit.
While, spoonful by spoonful, the soup became immersed in me, I engaged my fellow art lovers in conversation. I started by asking them to critique the soup. “it’s all right – I’ve had better,” said Lou Ellen. Judith opined that the soup was interesting but the exhibit did not appeal to her. To Holly, the soup was nicely spicy, and grows on you as you eat.
We did go on to discuss some aspects of politics and world affairs, springboarded by the exhibit topics – so I guess the immersive aspect was indeed accomplished.
I was a little off my stride, as photography was forbidden inside the galleries. I would have liked to include a few images of the soup and ambiance, but even when I promised not to include any of the graffiti or other art, the word was NO.
As I managed to get off a shot of the anteroom to the exhibit with a neon sign reading either SOUP or NO SOUP depending on, well, you can probably figure that out for yourself, I was stopped by a friendly but firm gallery attendant. She assured me the sign was part of the art, and off limits. Since the differential of contrast has washed out the message in this picture, I think it’s OK to include it here.
Since the soup was conceptual and not so well reified as lunch, we adjourned to the Café for something more filling, and an actual image of people eating.
There were other photo-ops scattered around the grounds, as always at this masterfully designed intermingling of building and landscape design. Even if any specific exhibit may disappoint, the overall effect is to lift the spirit and inspire a sense almost of transcendence.
And I finally got a close-up view of Split-Rocker. It’s bigger than it looks from the main path, and well worth the uphill trudge.
