The Tate Modern

The Tate Modern is yet another free museum in London, but focuses on what would appear to be the antithesis of what you would think of as one of the most historical cities in the world. I like some modern art – I really do. I like the interactivity between a contemporary piece and the viewer where you really have to figure out what you are supposed to be looking at. I like taking simple, well-known objects and looking at them from a different viewpoint. I like patterns arising from repetitions of strange objects. I like some pieces where you actually have to do a double take after you see the picture, then look at the title, and then look back at the picture to make some sense of it. That’s the good kind of interactivity.

The Tate Modern art museum has some pieces like that. But my kind of modern art (really the only kind I can tolerate) seemed very few and far between. In rooms with dozens of pieces, I found myself only appreciating and accepting one or two. The museum has an uncomfortable layout, seeming as if it is a giant airplane hanger or warehouse with paint on the walls. Rooms have themes I guess, but they simply lump one or two artists’ pieces together. Many pieces follow a similar style – some guy took a bus and dozens of sleds equipped with his idea of survival kits and shipped them all to an art gallery. One guy took a big uprooted palm tree, painted it a dusty bronze, and laid it on the ground of the art gallery. One guy threaded a few hundred bars of soap on a string and hung it up in an art gallery. Another guy took a mirror and stuck it on a canvas and hung it in an art gallery. Does this mean if it is in an art gallery, it’s art? I don’t’ really think so.

There were of course, some Picassos, A Monet, Pollacks, but those did not stick out as much as the performance videos they had throughout the museum. There were casual warnings that there was explicit material that ‘may not be suitable’ for children written on the walls, but that of course could mean anything. In this case it meant nudity, blood, self-mutilation, writhing, and other bodily functions. I just flat out didn’t care. It wasn’t really the fact that it was a little sickening; it was the fact that these ‘artists’ got even the least bit famous. I don’t think it is artistically ignorant or uncultured to get sick of seeing twenty or so pieces utilizing this stuff.

I still had a blast looking at the pieces and making of them with Jesse – but that’s not really due to the art museum itself; we just know how to have a good time. It’s a good thing London has plenty of other museums to remind tourists that it is still a culturally and artistically rich places in the world. It’s still definitely worth checking out – just don’t go expecting real art, and go with an intention to have fun anyway.