I've always found art galleries incredibly inspirational, and in the midst of finishing my revision of Project Demo and starting a new project, I figured I needed as much inspiration as I could get.
I wasn't disappointed.
The best fun was the Robert Breer exhibit. The door to the exhibit hall had several conspicuously posted warnings about how fragile the art was to the slightest touch, and to be careful of bags, children, etc. That piqued my interest.
I stepped through the doorway behind a mother with two young sons. The guard stationed just inside made sure she knew about the fragile art, while I looked around. The room was filled with white igloos (see picture) and a few other randomly assorted objects. It was absolutely bizarre. I turned to the explanatory board on the side of the room, read about how Breer was fascinated with movement, animation, and film, though none of that seemed to explain the igloos. So as the guard guided the family over to the igloo, my ears perked up.
"Watch it very closely," he said to the boys.
They all gathered in close. I couldn't tell if he was playing games with them (something security personnel in art museums don't normally do) or dead serious. All I saw was a white igloo. I watched with them.
Then the mother gasped. "It's moving!" she said.
The guard and family talked a bit more, but I had to see this for myself. I edged closer to the igloo, stared at it as the guard had suggested. It WAS moving, fractionally, ever so slowly gliding across the floor.
The kids pelted the guard with questions. The best: "Do they [the igloos] ever crash into each other?" Apparently they do, but at very slow speeds.
I lingered over each object in the room. Mostly igloos, but also tiny igloos fixed with ink that drew pictures on a board below. Also crumpled up fabrics, small styrofoam wedges, and a huge right angle wall, all moving.
I visited the other exhibit room on Robert Breer next, which had some of his animation, films, and flip books. But I was really struck by the igloos. They were so creepy. And silent. And MOVING.
And I might have missed the entire experience, just thought it was a room full of random vaguely igloo-shaped objects, if I hadn't caught the guard explaining it to the family. After all, how often do we watch very closely?
In doing research for this post, I just discovered that Robert Breer passed away August 11th. I'm so sorry.
Wednesday I'll post on my other inspiration from the Baltic.