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Harpo Marx

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Originally posted by USER NAME

[these were done by an artist named bothos*..

wish i could steal some better pictures ..i love it so minimal

Please explain to me how that is art...I dont mean to sound like a dick but I just dont see it..I could make a few of those after work, I'm not an art student and I doubt I'll ever understand how that is art..But I'd love to hear some explanations..thanks:confused:
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How Not Much Is a Whole World

 

http://www.log24.com/log/pix04/040402-minim.jpg'>

 

 

LOS ANGELES — Decades on, it's curious how much Minimalism, the last great high modern movement, still troubles people who just can't see why a stack of bricks or a plain white canvas with a line painted across it should be considered art. That line might as well be in the sand: on this side is art, it implies. Go ahead. Cross it.

 

No doubt the implication of a challenge, sometimes misinterpreted as an affront to rational taste rather than as an opportunity to consider art in a fresh light, helps explain why we only now have "A Minimal Future? Art as Object, 1958-1968." The landmark exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art here advertises itself as the first big American retrospective of the Minimal movement since the 1960's. Six years in the making, it's a stimulating beauty, which might even change a few minds.

 

It follows the opening of the Dia museum in Beacon, N.Y., last year, which confounded critics who doubted many people would care to visit a virtual shrine to Minimalism. Many people have visited. A Donald Judd retrospective has opened in London. And lately (see ground zero) Minimalism has become the default mode for our memorial culture, the proverbial blank slate onto which we inscribe what we want the future to remember about us. Austerity and authority, Minimalist tropes, implying puritan spirituality, are serving the role that angels did on sculptural monuments in the past.

 

On top of which the Guggenheim in New York, capitalizing, I suspect, on the long-planned Los Angeles show, has put together a (mostly) in-house display, a lavish pendant to what's here. Along with the requisite examples by standard-bearers (Donald Judd, Dan Flavin, Robert Ryman) and a few by predecessors (Robert Rauschenberg, Ad Reinhardt), the New York show features post-60's works by a range of artists that includes Gerhard Richter, Charles Ray, Robert Gober, Liam Gillick, Sherrie Levine, Rachel Whiteread and Damian Hirst.

 

Someone might surmise from all this that Minimalism's time has come, but it has always been around in architecture, music, dance, theater, literature, the ascetic impulse hard-wired in us. That is an implicit message of "A Minimal Future?," which includes Dan Graham's 1966 photographs of postwar tract housing, all of it identical except differently colored, illustrating how the Minimalist aesthetic of serial form is just out there, waiting to be noticed.

 

Minimal artists in the 1960's claimed to reject the past. Frank Stella, painting his black canvases with thin white stripes, said: "You can't go back. It's not a question of destroying anything. If something's used up, something's done, something's over with, what's the point of getting involved with it?"

 

Clever young artists say all sorts of provocative things, which may only partly make sense on reflection. Minimalist art was rooted in ancient traditions. But the sensible part in Mr. Stella's case was that nobody could go back, psychologically speaking. Having defined a new way to look at a plain black striped canvas or a stack of bricks or tract housing, Minimalism established that art could require our conscious assimilation of it as such: place bricks in a gallery and turn them into something else, sculptural objects, with weight, color and shape, defining the room, if we choose to see them that way.

 

When Carl Andre laid plates of steel on the floor, declared the work a sculpture and invited us to walk on it, asking that we be alert to how we felt in doing so, we and the gallery became integral to the art, which, in a sense, was incomplete on its own.

 

The art historian Michael Fried used the word theatricality to describe this phenomenon of Minimalism, by which he meant to attack it, although theatricality can be taken as an attribute. No longer a passive object on a pedestal or an illusion painted on a canvas on a wall, art now entailed real form in real space, experienced in real time.

 

Flavin's fluorescent lights, industrial hardware ordinarily, became ethereal art (colored light, making swimmy shapes) when plugged into a gallery's electrical socket. A painting became an object in the process, too — a de facto sculpture, positioned on a wall in a room, its content an abstract collection of physical properties (color, surface, size, shape, material).

 

None of this is news any longer, but it is reconsidered in "A Minimal Future?," whose artists include Conceptualists working in a Minimal vein during the 1960's, like Sol LeWitt, Mel Bochner, Douglas Huebler and Hans Haacke. Mr. Haacke's early sculptures included a Plexiglas cube with condensed water in it, and a shaft of ice — Minimal forms, destabilized by natural phenomena.

 

Organized by Ann Goldstein, the show here reshuffles the deck of 1960's isms, restoring the decade's messy reality (and gender blend) to escape a straitjacket definition of the Minimal movement. We're reminded that Judd, the movement's oracle, felt an affinity with Claes Oldenburg, of the squishy hamburgers and faux leopard-skin chairs. Here their works are side-by-side.

 

The exhibition also rejects the East Coast bias against West Coast Fetish Finish, a euphemism for Minimalism-lite, referring to art featuring smoked mirrors and jazzily colored plastic surfaces polished like surf boards. John McCracken, Craig Kauffman and Larry Bell get equal billing with Judd and Company as innovators, which they were, as do a few artists no longer on most people's radar screen, like Robert Huot, Patricia Johanson, Paul Mogensen and David Novros, whose works are intermittently worth reviving.

 

They are mixed up with artists typically labeled Post-Minimalists or some such: Eva Hesse, Richard Serra, Bruce Nauman, Robert Smithson, Richard Artschwager, Robert Irwin, Judy Chicago. The Guggenheim exhibition makes pretty much the same point with an early James Turrell light installation, some Serras and Naumans.

 

Labels and lists are dull book-keeping occupations. I will here avoid the critical temptation to list wheat and chaff, of which both shows have examples, and also not bog down in stylistic differences that ultimately can't be bridged by a generous catchall view of Minimalism.

 

Suffice it to say that something was in the air during the 60's and it affected many artists in different ways. For the moment, let's call it Minimalism. It was not strictly about industrial materials, lack of touch, lack of illusion, low-calorie visuals, static forms, architectural units and a literal-minded fixation on commonplaces of art-making that everybody already took for granted.

 

It was also about pleasure, for example, albeit sometimes monkish pleasure. The early Rymans here in Los Angeles, on the cusp of Abstract Expressionism, make ecstatic little fetishes of soft clouds of white paint and bumpy planes of criss-crossing strokes. Robert Mangold's shaped "Light-Neutral Area," with its almost imperceptible shift of air-brushed color, likewise reveals itself slowly as something subtly beautiful, sharpening your perception while you stare at it.

 

Thus racheted upward, your vision may register as almost baroque the bursts of strong color in Judd's stacked sculptures or Mr. Kauffman's bubble pieces or Dorothea Rockburne's fire engine red painting or Mr. McCracken's yellow pyramid. Light, with its usual spiritual overtones, and shadow, amplified occasionally by mirrors, also become baroque devices in this stripped-down context and are variously exploited by innumerable artists (Smithson, Robert Morris, Michael Asher, Mr. Nauman, Mr. Irwin, the list goes on).

 

Presence is everything with this art. You have to walk past that long blue line that Ms. Johanson painted on a bare canvas at eye level — a bodily allusion — to measure its length in time and experience it as quasi-architecture. The impact of Tony Smith's "Die," a steel cube, human-scale, with its triple entendre title implying industrial casting, dice and deadly weight, packs its wallop only when you move around it in the room — just as Agnes Martin's whispery grid paintings derive their ethereal grace from their intimate scale.

 

The enchantment of these physical encounters, which depends on a kind of compact between trusting artist and willing viewer, partly accounts for Minimalism's enduring appeal to diverse artists and others. The tug of an art that unapologetically sees itself as on a par with science and religion is not to be underestimated, either. Philosophical ambition and formal modesty still constitute Minimalism's bottom line.

 

If what results can sometimes be more fodder for the brain than exciting to look at, it can also have a serene and exalted eloquence. The painstaking effort behind Karin Sander's polished white wall at the Guggenheim or Brice Marden's densely built-up monochrome paintings in "A Minimal Future?" seduce us with a deceptive and radiant simplicity.

 

Sometimes less is more. That line in the sand doesn't separate good art from bad, or art from nonart, but a wide world from an even wider one.

 

 

 

 

from: http://log24.com/log/saved/minimal.html

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stuff like that is completely subjective, and it's 'worth' is determined by the viewer. since it's usually pretty devoid of technical skill, you can't even stay stuff like 'well, i dont like it, but atleast it's painted well'. either you 'get it' or you don't. personally, i love minimal stuff. it's generally my favorite 'art' (atleast as far as vancas work), but those particular examples do absolutely nothing for me. infact, i'd even go so far as to say that i find them generic and boring, but that's just my opinion, and obviously other people feel differently. my problem with it is that when you have something that simple, there has to be something very subtle that makes it work (atleast for me). some sort of interplay with the lines and colors, or (more often) a tension derived from asymetical balance. i don't really see those qualities in any of those. i would possible like the last one if the small circle wasnt there, if the colors were a little darker, and if the line between the two colors had some sort of 'motion' to it. that motion could even just be a tiny, hair thin line of fadeing, or a tiny amount of one color seeping into the other. anything to show some sort of inter action between them. that's not always a rule, sometimes i like things crisp and razor straight, but in this instance, thats how i feel about it.

anyway, yeah, you could re-create those in 5 minutes, but they would be just as boring (to me) as these are.

the thing i love about minimal stuff, is generally the things it doesnt say, vs. the things it does. most art attempts to tell a specific story. generally speaking, i could give a shit what that story is. minimal stuff allows you to get a certain feeling, then make up your own story to go with it.

finally, it's a hell of a lot harder to make someone feel something with 2 lines and 2 colors, than it is with an unlimited amount of both.

but that's just my take on it.

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BOOO.....hsssssssss

 

Originally posted by seeking

there, problem solved.

now instead of wasting another thread trying to get some dumb ass know it all 'model/artist/poet/bitch/student/ice cream maker' to understand the meaning of 'constructive criticism', we can spend our time talking to and about people that care what others have to say, and post here because they want to learn/improve.

 

seeks/game on

 

As far as I can see......we're the ones wasting space, critisizeing.

Kristina seems to have kept her posts short as well as contribute work to the thread.....even if rude.

 

But whatever. It's your bus and you can kick anyone off you want I guess.... even be rude about it.

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Re: one more time for good measure

 

Originally posted by BUCK FUSH

joker

 

you gave me the wrong email address and the mail i sent came back unsendable. im beginning to think it was a polite "fuck off," if so just tell me.

 

What?

 

Look, I would never tell you to fuck off... even politely. Maybe if I knew you and you were really bugging the shit out of me... even then, it's still a maybe.

 

Check your mail...

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