Kyle S.
Yelp
This has got to be a huge practical joke, right?
The Flavin Installation is without a doubt the lamest, most pointlessly expensive "art" I have ever encountered. And I have been to many an installation and seen many a dud. We went in here a couple years back during a Menil trip, and as we came in we met the incredibly bored security guard who looked at us as if to say, welcome to my nightmare.
We looked out at the huge empty concrete room, with a few not very strategically placed colored lights stuck on the walls in boring order.
I looked at the guard. "Is the art in the back room?"
He looked at me like Bukowski when he realizes that the bars are all closed and he forgot to get a bottle to take home. "No, this is it."
He seemed almost ashamed to say it, and I immediately felt for him. He has to endure the laughter and scorn of the (admittedly and understandably very few) folks who venture in here, as if he was responsible for this colossal waste of space and energy.
We did go into the back room, where Flavin displayed his staggering depth and range of vision by employing not colored tubes but, gasp, oh the genius, white ones! Also, alas, not organized in any unique or attractive way. It all felt like some sneaky dude had showed up with a few lights one day, stuck them on the wall in an hour, collected his check for a quarter million from some oil-rich Houston dowager with a poodle who was told that this guy Flavin is the latest hot thing in the Art World, and hightailed it out of there to cash the check before the world saw what he'd done.
Then again, perhaps I am a heathen who has no clue what Art is. Could be, despite many weeks of delight in the Prado, Louvre, MOMA, etc etc. But having just spent four hours in the Menil and finding much to my liking, not just representational art but some interesting modern pieces as well, I was open-minded and ready to be a fan o' Flavin. But seeing as this is only the second review here, perhaps there aren't too many fans of Flavin in Houston.
And rightfully so. This stuff may or may not be pretentious, a rip-off, a massive prank/statement on the hollowness of the big-money art scenes where something is Art if you can get a rich sucker to pay for it. But it is definitely booooring. And a huge waste of space and electricity. About the only positive thing I can say about The Flavin Inhalation is that it's a nice dark, cool space on a hot day. And that's it. Oh yeah, clean washrooms too.
I finally couldn't help myself. Standing in the middle of the empty room that someone had probably spent well over a million bucks building and heating and cooling over the years, I started laughing. The missus tried to stop me, but I couldn't help it. This was like a New Yorker cartoon come to life, with someone saying, "Trust me, it's Art. It has to be. It cost a fortune."
And while cracking up, I looked out the corner of my eye at the guard, a little sad for him and afraid of demeaning his existence in this post-modern talent vacuum. But not to worry. He suddenly cracked a wry grin. I walked over to him and said, "It's a joke, right?"
He smiled a smile born of many highballs. "It's whatever you want it to be."
"Well, I want it to be interesting, arresting, informative, thought-provoking, envelope-pushing. But it's still just boring and pointless."
The guard smiled. "You wouldn't be the first to feel that way."
Then he went back to meditating on the blank wall and I thought, maybe he's the real work of art here, and the lights are just to illuminate his existential angst in the midst of the chaotic modern world. The mind grasps at straws when confronted by the genius that is The Flavin. Hmm, maybe that's the point.
Yes, modern art can make us question life and its meaning, but so can a trip to the corner store. I want some aesthetic wonder along with my questions, and the only wonder I left with from this most useless of all museums is how long it took for Flavin to cash the check and get the hell out of Dodge.
I wish I'd been at the opening of this turkey. Did anyone have the guts, champagne glass in hand, to say, "This Emperor is most thoroughly naked?" Or did they all just nod in thoughtful poses, fingers to lips, and pretend that they too understood the Genius of Flavin?
And of course the very best irony here is that Costanza's favorite (fake) poet is Flavin. Preeecisely. Made me wonder if Larry David hadn't wandered in here one day. I can't wait to bring somebody here and build it up as the Greatest Museum In The World, just to see their face when they realize, this is it? I heartily recommend this prank; just try not to crack up in the first ten minutes while they tell you what it means. Maybe Flavin's mom just wouldn't buy him a Lite Brite set.
If you need a laugh about how utterly ridiculous the modern art scene can be, this is your place. But if you want to experience something artistically satisfying, stick to the Menil.