One needs to gird oneself for a day at a museum. Or at least, I do. It takes a lot for me to stand and shuffle around for hours, flashing back to my one art history course, hoping terms like “˙High Renaissance” and “Dadaism” can be recalled with a sense of meaning. Since moving within walking distance of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, I’ve seen a goodly amount of construction over the past six months. All in preparation for the institution’s new extension, ominously referred to as “Phase 1 of LACMA’s Transformation.”
With their unfortunate acronym LACMA, can sound more like a lactation condition than a repository of cultural treasures. The jewel of the newly opened extension is BCAM, the Broad Contemporary Art Museum. By the time I arrived, late Sunday afternoon on opening weekend, the place had sold out for the day. A modest line snaked around an escalator, since there did not appear to be any ground entrance. From the outside, the building doesn’t appear particularly innovative. Not like the new contemporary art museum in New York, the Bowery-squatting New Museum. The BCAM structure fits in with the rest of LACMA, with a sandy exterior. Only the fire engine red metal poles gave the structure some distinction. In the south plaza are closely spaced antique-style lamp posts facing Wilshire. My friend mused on how long it would be before the sculpture is defaced.
Even though admission to the old buildings was free, the experience of LACMA felt a bit underwhelming. The layout still feels mired in a late-70’s Century City kind of impersonality. The exhibition of SoCal Art of the 60’s and 70’s, felt a bit thin. I glimpsed an empty room at the end of the hall, track-lighting shining on the white wall. My first thought being: why didn’t they use that room for anything? It’s a perfectly good space. I chuckled at the guy poking his head around like he was “appreciating” the aesthetic of this completely barren room. Meanwhile, my friend wandered into the room and started looking around, serious. I gave her a perplexed look. “What’re you looking at? There’s nothing in there.” She flashed an amused smile and explained there was indeed. White fabric stretched to the point of near-invisibility. At this point I started muttering about last straws and said goodbye to Phase I.
image courtesy of LACMA
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