Being managed well is now among the primordial values in art and in museums. Meanwhile we have forgotten that modern art used to cause us to reflect, rethink, and redirect. Somehow contemporary art in its challenges resulted in realizations of how to live well, how to be well, and how to treat our brethren well.
Art used to be based on life’s values, questions such as why – not how. Beauty was valued for its own sake, proportion was valued for how it felt so good, and all art told a story with a point.
Pointlessness, chaos, and the delirious were pitfalls – not pinnacles – of human achievement. This is a show from the madhouse – the madhouse of the post-war era – where minds, values, and reason were not only lost but despised, destroyed, and debased.
Perhaps appropriate for a history museum? appropriate for a history lecture? about the abyss, the madness, and the ugliness of mankind gone mad after having lost their reason – so having done so impulsively went beyond the limits of all value and values, including reason?
Let us not celebrate the detritus of destruction, let us not commemorate the insanity of man’s inhumanity – to man, to our environment, to our relationships to each other.
Let us search out those gems of beauty, exquisite satisfaction, and delightful humanity. We have a choice: this vision, or that hell – in the next 10 minutes. Life is too short to spend time on where we failed, flailed, and fell.
The show was impeccable as a managed event. But any of the possible philosophical underpinnings for this art are absent. Our primary realization is that philosophy has gone missing in the war of commerce and consumers.
Being managed well is now among the primordial values. Certainly at the Breuer. Meanwhile we have forgotten how to live well, how to be well, and how to treat our brethren well. And now in this vacuum the Breuer celebrates whose who did art as an excuse, on a whim, as an aberration.
The true delirium here is that the world’s greatest art repository should focus on one of the greatest threats to art in the last century, on a period where madness reigned, on people lost in wildness, wilderness, and woe.
This is not a show worthy of the Met Museum. This is a triumph of academics, curators, and critics. There is no art here. There is only the death, disease, deterioration – and, yes, delirium – of the overeducated, the too removed, and the insanely misdirected.
The Breuer’s shows since its inception have shown little direction, little spirit or power, and have reveled in irrelevance. The Met Breuer has indeed lost its way.