SARAH URIST GREEN (VOICEOVER): Episode
of "The Art Assignment" is brought to you by Squarespace.
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SARAH URIST GREEN (VOICEOVER): arrived to a grey,
rainy Washington, DC, and crawled our way through
terrible morning traffic.
It could've been bad, but our cabbie had on NPR,
and we could relax and enjoy the fact that we were not
the ones driving.
We arrived at our hotel starving and quickly scarfed breakfast
in the lobby and pulled out our various devices
to get ready for the day.
See this?
See me double screening?
This is not what I should have been doing.
At this very moment, there was a press preview
for the reopening of the Renwick Gallery,
where we really should have been.
The kind PR folks provided us with this footage.
And watching it is kind of like turning a knife for me.
The Renwick houses the Smithsonian's collection
of contemporary craft and decorative art
and was about to open after a two-year renovation.
They take a progressive approach to this kind of collection
ghettoization, presenting work by a wide range of artists
and makers, showing, quote, how extraordinary handmade
objects have shaped the American experience
and continue to impact our lives.
So these are the installations, created specifically
for the building opening, that we
should have seen instead of writing emails and researching
ramen places for lunch.
This was a pretty major snafu.
But we did a little better after that.
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After taking our sweet time deciding on lunch,
we headed out and took the Metro,
descending into the DuPont Circle Station
at the weirdly slow pace determined by the escalators.
The DC Metro first opened in 1976
and is a magnificent artwork, in itself, designed
by architect Harry Weese.
Throughout the trip, I basked in the strange, brutalist glory
of this Metro system.
The coffered concrete vaulted ceilings
lend a feeling of spaciousness and highlight
the remarkable geometries of this complex transit system.
The lighting is low, indirect, and otherworldly.
If you see no other public art than this in DC,
you're still doing OK.
We arrived to at Daikaya and waited patiently
before devouring our steaming bowls of ramen.
I got the shoyu and Mark the vegetable.
Moving a little more slowly, we got back on the Metro,
picked up our gear, and headed down Massachusetts Avenue,
aka Embassy Row.
We took in the parade of passing buildings,
each with its own distinct architecture and design,
on our way to American University
to meet up with artist Molly Springfield.
We stopped in to the university's museum
and their Katzen Art Center and saw some really delicate,
captivating works on paper by Beverly Ress.
Then we met up with Molly and did some filming there
before heading to her studio an shooting the rest.
When we were done, it was dark.
And guess what?
We were hungry.
So on a tip from a friend, we decided to walk to a place,
called Compass Rose, that specializes
in international street food but served inside
instead of on the street.
It was super dark, so you'll have
to trust me that I had a bourbon drink that was great,
despite its name, hashtag lol, and then
noshed on dishes that were delicious, despite being
culturally confusing.
We had takoyaki, or Japanese octopus fritters, bhel puri
chaat, an Indian puffed rice snack, and tostones,
or fried plantains.
It was Embassy Row all in one, dark, little place.
It was much nicer the next day.
And we started out at the Phillips Collection.
They were playing host to an exhibition,
"Gauguin to Picasso," drawn from private Swiss collections.
But that's not why I was there.
I was there to think about the singular
vision of the eponymous Duncan Phillips, who
gathered this astounding collection by not only being
the grandson of a steel magnate but also by nurturing
close relationships with artists.
Masterpieces of the 20th century appear throughout this warren
of buildings, which started in 1921,
with the Phillips' family home, and extended into a music room,
a modernist wing in the '60s, and another addition
in the '00s.
The Phillips Collection fuses architecture
from different times as well art from different times,
providing room after room of intimate art viewing
moments, interspersing works by Paul Klee and van Gogh
and Mondrian and Jacob Lawrence and Edward Hopper,
with contemporary works like Nikki S. Lee's photography
and "Question Bridge, Black Males" a video installation
that looks to represent and redefine
black male identity in America.
Then there's a Rothko room.
And this is exactly how Rothko wanted his work to be seen.
You're alone in a room, with four of his paintings,
in close proximity, with the lighting just so.
And one floor up, you encounter a recent work,
by Wolfgang Laib, that you smell before you see.
It's a small chamber, lined with beeswax
and lit by a single bulb, providing
another immersive experience.
Duncan Phillips called this place,
an intimate museum combined with an experiment station.
And that's just how it feels, not
like a history that is organized and settled,
but one that is still being worked out,
reexamined, and remixed.
Then we returned to my beloved Metro
and headed to the National Mall.
The mall is under construction and not looking its best.
But who cares?
It's a symbol of progress, and we're there for the art anyway.
We stopping in the Freer and Sackler galleries,
which present the Smithsonian's Asian art holdings, to see
the Freer's Peacock Room.
This is what it looks like well-lit in the photos
Wikipedia provides.
But this is more what it's like to experience it.
But anyway, it's the former dining room of rich guy
Frederick Leyland that features a painting by James McNeill
Whistler as well as elaborate wall decorations
done by Whistler, without Leyland's permission
or payment.
This resulted in one of the most epic art
battles of all time, which you should really go read about.
But what's interesting is that we
were lucky to visit while Darren Waterston's
contemporary reimagination of the room
was on view in the adjacent Sackler Gallery.
Waterston reconstructs the room as a decadent ruin,
making visible the room's nasty history
and commenting on the excesses of both that Gilded
Age and our own.
Then we made a quick detour through the National Gallery
of Art Sculpture Garden to say, hello,
to these works by Sol Lewitt, Tony Smith, Roxy Paine, Roy
Lichtenstein, and Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van
Bruggen.
I disregarded the secret of enjoying art,
and that's making sure your blood sugar isn't too low.
So we just kind of quickly saluted these totems
and hurried to Buredo, a totem of trendy eating.
They make burrito-sized sushi rolls.
Wait, do I need to say that again?
Burrito-sized sushi rolls.
Sure, it's just a differently shaped hand roll, which
has existed for some time.
But these weren't just novel and well-marketed, they were good.
And just the fuel we needed to continue on our art marathon
to the National Museum of Women in the Arts.
There we saw an excellent exhibition of photographs
by Esther Bubley, who was hired by the Office of War
Information and documented life in the United States
throughout the '40s, '50s, and '60s.
The museum also had on a great show called "Pathmakers."
It featured a really interesting mix of work
from the often separate spheres of art and craft and design.
And I especially enjoyed this installation,
by Polly Apfelbaum, a display of the work of designer Hella
Jongerius, and, of course, the work of art assignment alumna
Michelle Grabner.
Next step, quick stops at Hemphill Gallery,
to see a show of work by Renee Stout,
and Adamson Gallery, which had to show
of magnificent photographs by Gordon Parks.
I had just written about Parks for our animation
in the Alex Soth episode about the FSA's photography project.
So it was a treat to see the works
in person and in large-scale.
Then we made a way to Transformer, a nonprofit art
organization, to have coffee with Victoria
Reis, its executive and artistic director.
Transformer does important work on behalf of emerging artists,
locally, in DC, as well as nationally and internationally.
They do this not only through exhibitions
but also through educational programs, partnerships
with other institutions, and an annual silent auction
and benefit party, that they had closed their gallery
space to get ready for.
They had a lovely installation, in their storefront,
by Paris-based artist Helene Garcia, called
"Let's Drink a Dozen Roses," providing us further proof
that bigger isn't always better, and art and new ideas
can thrive in unexpected places.
We ended the day back on the National Mall.
I forgot to mention it was Veteran's Day, which,
I'm ashamed to admit, usually comes
and goes for me with little activity in honor
of the important day.
We walked along the Vietnam Veterans Memorial,
as the last of the chairs were being broken down
from the earlier ceremonies, and scanned,
with many others, the names of the over 58,000 servicemen
and women who died during the war.
The Wall, as it's called, is a stunning work of art--
the best in the city in my view--
designed by artist and architect Maya Lin when she
was only a senior in college.
It was a moving experience, and one
that stayed with me even as we continued on
to the much less moving Lincoln Memorial
to fight for photo space.
And it definitely stayed with me as we
witnessed a beautiful sunset over the reflecting pool.
The next day, we got up early to try out GBD Donuts
but were devastated to find that they don't open until 11:00 on
most weekdays.
Not that early GBD.
And we didn't have much time, so we
were kind of forced to go upstairs to Jrink for a juice
instead.
It was actually really good juice, which I do recommend.
But when you're expecting donuts, well, it's not donuts.
Then off we went to DC's foremost contemporary art
institutions, the Hirshhorn, which, come to think of it,
is kind of shaped like a donut.
It was designed by architect Gordon Bunshaft, as a, quote,
large piece of functional sculpture,
and opened to the public in 1974.
Its curved galleries define and expand your experience
of the work it contains.
And its windows provide views out to the National Mall,
with an exhibition of works drawn
from their permanent collection.
Ditching the tired tactic of organizing by chronology
or geography, the curators have opted instead
to create thematic groupings.
You get to see the treasures of their collection,
like early sculptures by Claes Oldenburg and Robert Gober's
window to another time and place, along with newer
editions by Cai Guo-Qiang, Yinka Shonibare, and Nick Cave.
There's a wonderful piece by Rachel Harrison
on view, which may, at first glance,
look like another modernist-informed sculpture
until you register it's roughly hewn structure and bright pink
plaster that undercut any read of it as traditional.
Oh, and the toy wrestler climbing it,
which, for me, is a brilliantly cheeky nod at the idea
of heroic artistic ambition.
The galleries combine works, from different times
and sensibilities and parts of the world, that
talk to each other and have uniting principles.
Like this gallery that brings together
paintings from the 1960s, by Warhol and Ed Ruscha,
with sculptures from the '80s, by Sol Lewitt and Katharina
Fritsch, and a more recent painting by Ellsworth Kelly.
You're encouraged to think about the foundations of pop art
and how the strategy of repetition
connects it to minimalism and beyond
as well as how artists investigate color and form.
We also made sure to see the Barbara Kruger installation
that fills the museum's lower-level lobby
and surrounds you with open-ended questions.
And the enormous 1974 Dan Flavin installation
that immerses you in color and begs
to be viewed from many angles.
Before we left, we peeked in at a truly enjoyable video work
by Spanish artist Sergio Caballero in their Black Box
gallery.
You can watch the whole thing on Vimeo.
Then we headed over the Potomac to the headquarters of PBS
to say, hi, to Lauren Saks and Kelsey Savage.
We got a good look around the place
and ran into a few startling posters
before heading out for a late lunch of South Korean
fried chicken wings at Bonchon.
Remember, we were only running on juice here,
so it was no time for restraint I felt a little guilty ending
our trip with a chain, but at least it
was an international chain.
And, you know, every meal can't be sushi burritos.
So Mark and I really thought our parting shot of this video
should be a sunset at the reflecting pool.
And it really should be.
But I'm not clever enough to rework
the chronology of this video.
So we're just bring it back now to erase the visual of chicken
wings and draw some conclusions about our time in this city.
DC is a remarkable, whole-body experience,
a place not just for singular views or paintings on a wall,
but whose landmarks demand that you move through them,
immerse yourself in them, and see them from many angles.
It's an international city and a smart city,
one where far flung ideas and flavors and values
are allowed to intermix and be tested.
It's a city that honors the past and thinks
critically about the future.
And almost all of it, you can experience for free.
This episode of "The Art Assignment"
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