The Houston trip wasn’t complete until we made one last stop… the Yayoi Kasuma exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston (MFAH). As we walked up, we saw that MANY folks had the same idea… we splurged on a fast pass and got a 2:15 time slot. We were in! And it left time to revel in the Turrell tunnel and explore the permanent collection and other special exhibitions.
As a photography lover, I was excited to check out Infinite Pause: Photography and Time, a small, focused exhibition chock-full of great works. A fun find: A work by Mathew Pillsbury that included Penelope Umbrico as a subject. (Umbrico’s sunset series had just been featured in the Harry Ransom Center’s exhibition Look Inside: New Photography Acquisitions). Inspired by an artsy friend, I often think “which one would I buy”? The award, in this show, goes to Gjon Mili’s Typewriter from the 1940s. After collaborating with Harold Edgerton, Mili was able to use a rapid-sequence flash to record in multiple images being record on a single film frame. Another stand-out was Frank Stella’s Moultonville I from 1966. When it lists fluorescent in the materials list, it’s likely that I will be a fan.
And then, it was on to the main attraction…
Kusama: At the End of the Universe
Despite being an art history major, I didn’t know much about Kusama before seeing her edition of Alice in Wonderland in the Ransom Center’s 2012 of the same name. Oh, and I know the Hirshhorn is hosting a major retrospective of her work. Not knowing what to expect amped up the fun.
We stood in line, outside a 10 x 10 white enamel box. A uniformed gallery attendant escorted us, with five other people, into the room when it was our time. First up: Love Is Calling. The door closes behind us, and it was a visual wonderland. Ever-changing colors lit up polka-dotted tentacles that extended from the floor and ceiling — and they were all reflected into infinity with mirrored walls. A Japanese voice enveloped us, reading a love poem. We took it all in (along with the obligatory photographs). It was just too spectacular not to capture on film (or, in this case, a SIM card). We danced with our fellow art viewers. And all too soon, a door on the opposite wall opened, and we were escorted out.
Having a party of two worked out well for visiting Aftermath of Obliteration of Eternity. A gallery attendant warned us, in a firm but friendly way, to only stand on the gangplank, because there was water surrounding us. We ventured to the end, and darkness enveloped us. (Warning: this exhibition is not for the claustrophobic). Twinkling golden lights flickered all around us — evoking a candle flicker and twinkly backyard string lights.
I love a good museum label, and upon exiting, read Kusama’s words: “Life is what I always try to understand–its depths and its mystique of rise and fall… From day to day, I understand the greatness brought by this mystique as well as that love is eternal and keeps appearing and disappearing.”
Kusama’s work forces us to concentrate on the now, while showing us the infinite. It’s an experience that ends too soon but lingers on.
