Greetings art lovers! Living in the apartments of strangers (as we will be for the next six months) gives us a unique perspective to comment on their collections of art work. Here is a selection of the pieces we’ve been living with for the last nine days. (Note: None of this will appear in our AirB&B review, as we want to maintain our status as agreeable and compliant guests.)
“Scary Lady”
Paint on wood
Imagine being horribly jet lagged — with a touch of altitude sickness — and staggering into the kitchen for a glass of water, only to be confronted with this image. It was no doubt intended by the artist to connote some sort of sexy, cosmopolitan vibe. It does all this and much, much more, pushing the viewer to ask questions like: Why is her skin so white? Her eyes so yellow? Her lips so orange? Is that her hair or a large dried bush that’s attacking her head? We’ll never know, but I do know that I will have a difficult time forgetting this face. I put it in the same category as haunting masterpieces like Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” Well done.
“Bubbling Hallway Wall”
Plaster, paint and water
Our apartment has been blessed with many of these environmental installations. When I look at them, I’m taken on a journey. At first I’m overtaken with an urge to sand the wall and paint or, more accurately, call up our handyman Danny and have him do it. This is followed by a sense of enormous relief, as in “This isn’t my apartment, I don’t have to do anything.” Perhaps this is the intent of the artist: To use water damage in order to inspire the viewer to let go, to allow him to realize that he is on vacation and is no longer responsible for maintaining a hundred-year-old house in Los Feliz. Bravo.
“Children Attacked By Geese”
Thread sewn into pillow
When I first saw this pillow on our bed I thought that it was meant as a kind of warning to guests, an instructional piece for tourists. It told me that water fowl in Ecuador were different from what we were used to, that they aggressively attacked children here in Quito and the rest of the country. Cuidado! But on closer examination, the setting is clearly not equatorial South America but northern Europe. What then are we to make of this? My conclusion: The artist was at some point traumatized by an angry goose and sewed this pillow to be able to move past this terrible event, much like Picasso did with Guernica. Four stars.
“Angels With Price Tags”
Paint on ceramic
Who wouldn’t want to buy these angels? Well, me, for starters. But that’s exactly the point. I think the artist is making a statement about the difficulty of getting away from crass commercialism. Yes, even the angels in your living room have prices. Richard Serra and Roy Lichtenstein could do no better. Remarkable.
“Disturbing Mask In Hallway”
Paint on ceramic
If it were just the mask itself, this piece would not be nearly as haunting. But somehow the setting, a large empty wall, makes it an image you will not be able to walk past without thinking, “Why?” I can only suppose, but my theory is that one day an old lady experimented with some meth, bought this and hung it here. But its origins are of no importance, really — the unnerving effect is undeniable.
“The Eternal Toilet Spring”
Mixed media installation
There are dripping installations throughout the apartment, but this is the one I find most remarkable. From some unseen source, water drips from the toilet and forms a thin stream on the bathroom floor, just enough to wet the socks of anyone who uses the toilet. The artist clearly wanted to show us that the discomforts of human life (i.e., socks wet with toilet water in the middle of the night) are nothing compared to eternal nature, here represented by a steadily leaking toilet. “Spiral Jetty” has nothing on this piece. I really haven’t been able to stop thinking about this one.
“Battery-Powered Dildo”
Rubber, batteries
My son Julian is an active climber. Imagine our surprise when he found this piece, stashed modestly away in one of the high cabinets of our bedroom. Sarah and I tried to not overreact, but I think the words “Wash your hands” were said about a hundred times. Julian’s memorable quote about this unforgettable work: “I pushed the button and it started wiggling.”
How do you tell your children about a rubber penis? This is art in its most active form: It imposes itself on your life, demanding response. This, in a sense, is why we travel: To be forced out of our comfort zone. Thank you, unknown artist! (For the record, we just said, “How weird. I wonder why someone would have something like that. Wash your hands.”)
