Slide!

I tried to see Carsten Höller: Experience at the New Museum one weekend shortly after it opened. This is the show that includes a slide that transports you from the fourth floor to the second without the hassle of stairs or those freakishly large elevators. It also includes a sensory deprivation tank and a carousel.

 

It is no exaggeration to say that I had never before encountered anything even approaching a line at the New Museum during paying hours (Thursday evenings are free). This is one of the great pleasures of the New Museum—despite uneven exhibitions and awkward architectural proportions, it is delightfully jostle-free. Given the carnival-like amenities proffered by Höller, however, I should not have been as surprised as I was to see a line stretching down the Bowery. On that particular day, I simply shrugged my shoulders and walked away, not wanting to deal with the line and the crowds that it augured. There would be plenty of time to see the show.

Ten weeks later and out of town, I am on the verge of missing "Experience," which closes on January 22 (part of the show will close on the 15^th, the exhibition’s original closing date). I will have a brief window in which to see it when I return; the question is, do I want to? (Of course, the question of whether I want to attend the exhibition is different from the question of whether I ought to.)

A colleague related that when she attended, she was told upon entry that she would not be able to ride the slide on account of the crowds. The slide is more or less the only element of the exhibition that really appeals to me. This seems like awfully skimpy motivation when one considers that a slide can be found at pretty much every playground in town. The lines of people waiting to pay $16 to ride this particular slide affirm that the Duchampian gesture—a urinal in an art exhibition becomes art by virtue of its recontextualization—is alive and well, but it has been stripped—dramatically so—of its ability to shock. What is left when the subversive thrill is gone? I’ll be sure to let you know … if I decide to brave the end-of-exhibition lines, that is.

Postscript, 1/13:
A like-minded perspective.