Author: greg

Whoa. Choire Sicha has gone all Kit Carruthers on Artforum’s monthly Top Ten list; it’s truly a site to behold. Usually, even the brainiest people have a hard time coming up with ten relevant things to say, and they pack it with esoteric crap or their friend’s website or something.
Choire doesn’t–um, actually, he does. There’s esoteric crap (“Remember that awesome Amy Globus video shown last winter at Gorney Bravin + Lee, with two octopuses sucking their way through some weird see-through aquarium tubing while Emmylou Harris and Neil Young sang ‘Wrecking Ball’?”) and his friend’s website (Paul Ford’s Ftrain). Just this time, it’s good.

While we were in Japan, we made a detour to see the growing collection of contemporary art on Naoshima, a tiny island near Okayama, and within spitting distance of the massive Seto Inland Sea Bridge.
In explaining Naoshima, I’ve taken to calling it the Marfa of Japan, but that’s only partly accurate. Benesse represents one collector’s–not an artist’s–increasingly significant attempt to create an internationally recognized destination for contemporary art pilgrims and to revitalize/transform a dying town in the process. I think it’s mostly successful, and definitely worth the trip.
Benesse Art Site is the new umbrella moniker for four separate art projects: the just-opened Chichu Museum; Benesse House, a small museum/hotel; Seaside Park, a campground surrounded by outdoor sculptures; and Art House, permanent artist installations in abandoned 18th century buildings.
When we arrived on Naoshima, we headed first to Benesse House, which was designed by Tadao Ando. The staff was extremely helpful, even though we knew we couldn’t stay overnight (the hotel fills up a year in advance). The building was impressive, with two or three of the sublime moments Ando’s Fort Worth Museum has dozens of.
The work was all over the place; there’s stuff from a collecting phase where money outstripped sense, then from the “let’s open a museum” phase where sense caught up. Exquisite siting was a recurring theme. Hiroshi Sugimoto’s Time Exposed seascape photos, installed in a courtyard overlooking the sea; Yoshihiro Suda’s invisible Weeds, and Bruce Nauman’s neon 100 Live or Die, which, by restrictions on how frequently it would be turned on, was transformed from sculpture to eagerly awaited performance spectacle.
A businessman on the ferry had boasted, “There’s a $6 million Monet up there.” [A Water Lilies diptych, which was probably more than that.] Meanwhile, the locals remain unimpressed by the $10 million early Johns hanging next to the Zen-like Pollock.
I’ve mentioned it before, but I’ll post more on the Art House Project later.

While we were in Japan, we made a detour to see the growing collection of contemporary art on Naoshima, a tiny island near Okayama, and within spitting distance of the massive Seto Inland Sea Bridge.
In explaining Naoshima, I’ve taken to calling it the Marfa of Japan, but that’s only partly accurate. Benesse represents one collector’s–not an artist’s–increasingly significant attempt to create an internationally recognized destination for contemporary art pilgrims and to revitalize/transform a dying town in the process. I think it’s mostly successful, and definitely worth the trip.
Benesse Art Site is the new umbrella moniker for four separate art projects: the just-opened Chichu Museum; Benesse House, a small museum/hotel; Seaside Park, a campground surrounded by outdoor sculptures; and Art House, permanent artist installations in abandoned 18th century buildings.
When we arrived on Naoshima, we headed first to Benesse House, which was designed by Tadao Ando. The staff was extremely helpful, even though we knew we couldn’t stay overnight (the hotel fills up a year in advance). The building was impressive, with two or three of the sublime moments Ando’s Fort Worth Museum has dozens of.
The work was all over the place; there’s stuff from a collecting phase where money outstripped sense, then from the “let’s open a museum” phase where sense caught up. Exquisite siting was a recurring theme. Hiroshi Sugimoto’s Time Exposed seascape photos, installed in a courtyard overlooking the sea; Yoshihiro Suda’s invisible Weeds, and Bruce Nauman’s neon 100 Live or Die, which, by restrictions on how frequently it would be turned on, was transformed from sculpture to eagerly awaited performance spectacle.
A businessman on the ferry had boasted, “There’s a $6 million Monet up there.” [A Water Lilies diptych, which was probably more than that.] Meanwhile, the locals remain unimpressed by the $10 million early Johns hanging next to the Zen-like Pollock.
I’ve mentioned it before, but I’ll post more on the Art House Project later.

WP art critic Blake Gopnik is wants calling for DC’s bigwig art collectors–capitalists all, who else can afford a Richter?–to go communist, and open a collective to share their hoard with the contemporary art-starved DC public.
It’ll never happen, but not for the reasons Tyler Green thinks. If Miami’s experience is any indication, hyper-competitive, status-hungry collectors who open exhibition spaces have less than a 1 in 4 chance of not embarassing themselves.
[When I first did the rounds of the big Miami collections five years ago, I realized four people had–independently? in competition with each other?–bought nearly identical Oldenburgs, the original of which is at the National Gallery. In DC. And when I was introduced to one as a ‘fellow collector,’ her first question was, “Do you collect Gursky? Struth?” Which is unbelievably tacky art world shorthand for “Do you have over $10 million? or do you make over $2 million a year?” The only possible answers, by the way, are “Oh, not any more.” or “Who?”]
Basically, I worry that most collectors would be too self-important, possibly too clueless, and almost certainly too thin-skinned to be able to pull something like this off.
If Blake’s determined, though, he should get in touch with the Rubells, whose Rubell Family Collection put the pressure on their Miami peers in the first place, and who bought a hotel in Washington last year.