Printed Matter’s

 

 

 

  I will have to admit that it’s been a long time since I’ve visited a contemporary art museum (MOCA). The last time I was at this museum was in the late 80s. Boy, how things have changed. I was excited, I would be merging from my cocoon of dirty diapers, piles of laundry, and never ending tasks dedicated to others. I grew more excited as we walked from the parking structure to the museum. Hey kids! Someone has installed bronze lettering in the sidewalk. Hey! Look at all the cool stuff it done to the buildings around here. One of my kids said “why do we have to do this dad”. In response, I said “you need to get out and see the real world”. As we enter the venue, I thought to myself, “Things were not the same as I remember them”. As we walked into the exhibit hall. We were confronted with, as best I can describe it. A millennial hipster swap meet of print-based material. I consider myself open to exploring new things, but I have never seen so many penises, boobs, F word, images of bric-a-brac, and Homer Simpson hugging another man. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a good penis boob bric-a-brac Simpson T-shirt. My son, has free access to everything on Internet, said to me “dad I am really uncomfortable”. I don’t remember art ever being this abrasives. Then I found my safe place. A booth that made art in a box. The publisher would create collaborative works. Each box would contain books by different artist. The woman behind the table said the words that are like I crack to a Printermaker. “We use a letterpress for the type in the books”. I was back in my happy place. As we continued through the museum. I found myself in a room. It had students from the Netherlands creating books. They were creating a book every 2 hours. The content of the book was created from the people who are in the room. I’ve always found it serendipitous when something happens that I don’t expect. I think that’s the part art I enjoy. It is needless to say, my adventure in the real world only lasted half an hour. The calls from the family, “dad this is really making me uncomfortable, can we go now, and I am so tired”. I felt a little cheated because I never open the book.

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