Giacometti's Conundrum
A review and illustrations by Ryn Gargulinski
There is definitely a series of conundrum going on in the works of Alberto Giacometti,
now on display through January 8 at MoMA (Museum of Modern Art, 11 West 53rd Street,
212-708-9400) -- and that's not even counting his name. This artist, with a
seemingly Italian moniker, actually hails from Switzerland -- and what a repertoire he
brings our way.
 The puzzling nature of his work
started before I even got to the exhibit. When I saw one of his most compelling
sculptures, "Walking Man," on the cover of every Arts section one Friday morning
and knew I had to go see this in person, I was initially revolted. "Walking
Man" is a stick-figure man formed from what looks like molten dog doo. The man
is emaciated, haunting and downright creepy. In short, everything that would turn
you off from a potential boyfriend. I was immediately hooked. The rest of the
exhibit works in precisely the same manner: you are initially put off by it for some
reason or another only to turn around and become genuinely enraptured. I even
overheard one woman utter "It's beautiful" while gazing at something I found
perplexing, interesting -- even fascinating -- but beautiful? Obviously Giacometti
is up for diverse interpretation, another riddle of his work.
At first glance, the pieces look incredibly simple. In fact, they are quite
user-friendly and easy to draw in cartoon form, a definite plus for my museum experience
which I always undergo armed with sketchbook and Sharpie (see accompanying sketches).
But its simplicity quickly turns into a multi-layered complexity the more you
examine the work.
 Once you start getting into the
style of his work, Giacometti begins to actually "trick" you into thinking
complexity. Allow me to explain. Say you gaze at a simple shape, you call it a
square. You read the placard to find that the piece, entitled "My Father's
Head," is not square at all. Upon further examination, it does, indeed, look
like his father's head. (Yes, his father had a left eye that looks smashed in.)
Once you get into the groove of it all, you begin to guess, with as much joy as a child
ripping open a new toy on Christmas, what the work really is. For instance, what my
friend and I determined to be a busted radiator or a mutilated cello was, according to the
sign, a reclining couple. I began to guess at titles. "Cutting Board for
Imported Brie" was really called "Circuit." "Lasagna Noodles
Suspended with Cinnamon Sticks and a Spoon Propped Up" was really "Reclining
Woman Who Dreams." "Doll House that No One Is Allowed to Play with"
was called "Palace." "The Chess Set" was "No More
Play."
 Just when I was getting the hang of
it, getting pretty accurate with my guesses, Giacometti throws a loop with a piece that
appeared to be a gutted skeletal mass complete with massive aorta barreling through the
center (I thought myself so clever!). Instead, it was what it really looked like:
"Project for a Passageway." And the mass of rock that was somewhat  triangular but not square at all
was called, simply, "The Cube." You see what I mean by conundrum -- the simple
look complex unless, of course as illustrated by the last two examples, they simply are
simple. In any event, I dwelt mainly on the sculptures -- with the "Dog"
and the "Walking Man" being my favorites -- although there were also drawings
and paintings of his that may have been equally as enjoyable to ponder if they live up to
the artist's fascinating M.O.
Giacometti proves that art can be simple yet complex, revolting yet compelling, hideous
yet gorgeous and -- above all else -- a heck of a lot of fun.
____
Aside from her monthly 12gauge columns and articles, Ryn Gargulinski hosts a reading
series on the Second Sunday of every month @ 1 p.m.
CRANBERRY CAFE
9506 4th Avenue
Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, NY
R train to 95th Street
Join Poet to Poet
with host Ryn Gargulinski
for an afternoon of poetry, prose and performance.
$3 min., $3 donation |
