Art for Art's Sake (Part 2 of 3)

 Just past the upended car is Forever Marilyn.

From KESQ (local TV station):

"The 17-ton statue crafted of steel and aluminum was first unveiled in Chicago in 2011 before moving to the corner of Palm Canyon Drive and Tahquitz Canyon Way in Palm Springs in 2012, where it was on display for about two years.

"Forever Marilyn" was designed by artist Seward Johnson, who died in March 2020. The humongous sculpture recreates the moment in the 1955 film "The Seven Year Itch'' where Monroe's white dress surges up toward her waist as she
stands on a windy Manhattan subway grate."

The artist loved her exuberance in this pose. Some Palm Springs residents, however, felt it was not nice that the Art Museum was looking at her back side so they sued to stop the placemet of the statue there. Their rationale was that it was against existing land use regulations to close off Museum Way (a little street which makes a T at the Museum's front door). Luckily, that was thrown out of court. It seems that there is always controversy about the best art.

Here I am giving a size reference.

Palm Springs had a great tourist upsurge in 2012, helping to alleviate some of the economic doldrums at the time. They are hoping for the same now, but covid 19 has put a damper on that although there are quite a few more people here now.

The Friday when we saw Marilyn and the Gay Men's Chorus was the same day we returned from Scottsdale, Arizona. Mom and I drove to Emily's time share and it was a lovely four day interlude.

While we were in Scottsdale, we discovered an organization called Wonderspaces Arizona and it had many rooms of modern art, many of which were kinetic art.

They call themselves 'an everchanging art show featuring immersive and interactive installations and a full bar.' I laughed at the full bar part, but it was real. I've never needed a cocktail to go with my art.

This was calle "Killing Time" and it came with a warning for pace maker wearers to stand back because it employs powerful magnets. The skull is dripping metal filings, much like an Etch a Sketch. I think they travel back up to his mouth from the bottom but I didn't take a lot of time to watch it. I didn't care much for it.

Nearby there were three old fashioned student desks with the wooden tops and wrought iron legs. Each had an armature with a pen and a camera. A subject from the viewing population sat in a chair in front of the robots and 'they' would draw a portrait of the subject. A little girl was having hers done but she couldn't sit still for the 20 minutes required and she left early. The robots kept drawing oblivious to her departure. On the wall to the right were about 30 previous portraits because you could not keep yours -- it belonged to the artist. There was an attendant who explained that the artist had constructed the armatures and programmed the computer. Each desk had a computer underneath. I suspect she would change the paper when the robot was done.

There were many more rooms, often the door was a heavy canvas cloth. I don't have many pictures because many were enacted in a darkened room. There were lots of warnings about flashing lights which might trigger epileptic seizures. 

This appeared to be a pile of disco balls.

The light source was constantly moving, changing the patterns of light on the ceiling, walls, and floor. There was some kind of music thumping away.

The next was my favorite. These three 'rooms' were out in the open.

Room 1. Deep pink yarn was strung on this metal grid.

Room 2. Everything, including a bureau and lamp, was covered with gauzy white fabric. It's the White Room.

Close up of chair to show chrocheting.

Room 3. The Rainbow Room. The TV had pink yarn strands across it.

This is the ceiling of the Rainbow Room.

There were many more rooms, each about the size of a small bedroom. One had 10 minutes of projections on a miniature building. Another had a virtual movie where you had to wear a headset. And the last one we saw was a room lined with blackboards and the beginning phrase of, "Before I die I want ..." and you were to fill in the blanks. There were buckets of chalk and wipes. I wondered if they wiped it down every day, erasing the anonymous dreams.