Dear Vik Muniz.
You are a god, but certainly you must know this. You must have other worshipers. I first came in contact with your work because it made me laugh. And I love art that makes me laugh. I love art that makes me laugh at art, or more appropriately, with art. Now thats successful art for you. Now, as you must know, there isn’t always a lot of art out there that fits that unique category. So it wasn’t hard to figure out that your name kept coming up. And this when I fell in love with you. (I know pretty heavy for a first time imaginary love letter, but what can you do?!)
So when I saw your name mentioned in the context of the Rebus show at MoMA, I have to admit I couldn’t even finish reading the sentence. I was sold. I was going. And I went. And really, honestly, I expected to see your work. I was expecting a show of you. In fact I had read Rubik rather than Rubus and had expected you to be making things out of Rubik cubes like Pollock pieces or something. So, it caught me for a moment that it wasn’t your work, but really that’s not true either. For all the work that wasn’t yours, it was really just one larger work that was yours. And does so truely fit with your body of work, your use of art as the subject of art. Its really brilliant you know. And if I keep saying really, let me just put it this way, I wish I could find a greater emphasis to use instead.
I laughed immediately upon seeing the show. I mean just the first work, which I was already familiar with, and its huge crowd surrounding it. It was hard to get in! I love the way the name puns as your opening piece. I love the references to Plato in the second through fourth pieces. I love the way you drive this exhibit like a car changing lanes or making turns whenever it feels like it, but at the same time, keeping that rhythm, the beat, the soundtrack of our lives. Keeping it going and letting it also change course. I walked through the whole exhibit and giggled. I like the use of your gray wall to keep our eyes focused on the art. I just want to go back and take notes on how people respond. I asked the guard, but I don’t think he was honest.
I kept going around and around and then I found out about your talk and ran down to sign up for a ticket. No luck. It would have been my first day of financial accounting and I would have gladly missed it for you. Thats both not really and is really the comment on financial accounting that it could be seen to mean. I think I ran back and forth to and from the gallery at least two other times. Getting the audio guide that the guard said didn’t exist. Even if it was just one number, that was particularly hard to find, it was worth it.
Now I know I should be critical and say something academic sounding and the like. But this was such a pleasure trip for me visually and intellectually that just trying to put it all in words makes it sound bad. So I understand if you don’t make it through the rest of this letter that you’ll probably never read. Its okay. But what I do want to say and say rightly is that, part of what made it great was that each time I returned I found something new. It didn’t have to be all out shocking like some of the work you see now. Shock value just for shock value. It was clever, it was funny, it carried meaning, it asked questions and it made statements. But, of course, what else would it do? Its yours.
And I love the handouts, the educational guide. I just want to frame it and put it above my bed. I love the way you think, I love rocks, paper, scissors. I love the movie screen and the end. And how I will not make boring art or how I will love Marcel Duchamp even more when he is next to this pail. I think he would too, personally. I love how all of these works that I knew came together to be something more than their individual worth. I love how you do this to art and I love how it makes me feel to see it.
So there you have it, Vik Muni -, a love letter, or if you will, a love post, just for you. No stamp necessary.
And most importantly, thank you. Thank you for being you. Thank you for keeping art on its toes.
Small Girl, Big City 