Why do I bother going to visual arts exhibitions?
I’m kind of an idiot when it comes to visual art. I have trouble picking out historical allusions if they are there to be found, I’m terrible at remembering what Impressionist art looks like vs. abstract art vs. any other genre of art, and I have no clue why certain pieces are worth six months of rent.
Nonetheless, I’m kind of addicted to attending visual arts exhibitions. Especially if there is a free invitation involved and the artist is onsite. Especially if there is free wine involved.
I went to a private reception at McColl Center for Art + Innovation on Tuesday (no wine involved this time) and, as artist Anne Lemanski chatted about her exhibition, “Simulacra,” which largely featured two-dimensional digital prints with images scanned from encyclopedias, I was reminded of the elements of exhibitions that really get me hooked.
(1) Other people ask really interesting questions.
A fellow audience member and Observer colleague said, “It seems like a lot of the animal images are kind of aggressive or a little disturbing … what’s that about? Even the birds are looking like they’re up to something.”
Lemanski responded: “I don’t know, that’s just what I do. I don’t have an answer for that. That’s the imagery that I’m drawn to. But I also think they look like that because of the way they are being played off of other images.”
Which leads me to:
(2) A work of art does not require an explanation.
Or justification. Or rationality.
Artists seem miraculously free – like they could go psycho and throw paint at a wall until someone calls it beautiful. I admire that.
Not that I think artists are psycho. I realize this every time I go to an exhibition, since:
(3) I get the chance to hear insight into someone else’s creative process.
“When I first started,” said Lemanski of her collage process, “I was like, I’m just going to start going through these encyclopedias and cut out everything that I want to. And that’s exactly what I did.”
Once she got deeper into the collages, the placement became a bit more strategic.
(4) I learn what can be seen as a source of inspiration.
“I always wanted to be out of the city, into nature,” said Lemanski, whose prints are bursting with animal images and spurts of vegetation. “I’ve always been drawn to nature. It’s such a complex, amazing, beautiful world. It’s mind-blowing … it’s a mirror of us.”
(5) There is always something to connect with.
Like this spider, which is perched in Lemanski’s 3-D sculpture. It’s a black widow (Lemanski revealed that it even has the proper markings on its underside … and anus) and reminds me of my alma mater’s semi-gross, fully menacing mascot.
(6) I always learn a new word.
Blissfully ignorant, I looked up Lemanksi’s exhibition title, “simulacra“:
Simulacra. A noun. The plural form of simulacrum. Pronounced sim-yuh-ley-kruh. Meaning a slight, unreal or superficial likeness or semblance. An effigy, image or representation. I will use this in a sentence today.
(7) It’s mesmerizing.
There’s just something about being silent, opening my eyes and getting lost in a whirl of color. I never know where my thoughts will go, but I can’t wait to find out.
Don’t miss the public reception for Simulacra on Sept. 18.
Photos by Katie Toussaint.
This story was originally published September 17, 2015 at 12:09 AM with the headline "Why do I bother going to visual arts exhibitions?."