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The building that houses the Museum of Modern Art in Nice looks the part. It is a work of modern art in itself. The white sculpted round
walls twist and turn, the sweeping entrance walkway looks down onto the terrace of the restaurant below where customers sit in the sunshine, shielded from the wind and the noise from the street
below.
The museum is big with airy rooms, the works of art spaciously displayed. We saw a red circle on a white background, painted on a canvas
some twenty feet high and thirty feet wide. Why the artist needed such a large canvas to depict a red circle on a white background I couldn't imagine. We both looked hard at the painting,
pondering its hidden meaning.
Was all the complexity of life itself here displayed? What was the artist trying to say? Was the painting so profound that the a
person of average intelligence was at a loss to comprehend it, or was it simply a red circle on a white background, painted by an artist who perhaps had a wicked sense of humour, and could have hours
of amusement imagining all the people who would look at and attempt to unravel the mystery in his painting when all the time it was simply a red circle on a white background?
The adjacent canvasses depicted similarly uninspiring images - a blue triangle on a red background, and two red stripes on a green
background. Was I missing something here? Whilst not exactly an art connoisseur, I am not a complete Philistine either. Perhaps Midori, seeing this from an oriental perspective could shed some light
on the subject matter? I understand that unlike a traditional painting, it is not the skill of the artist that we are supposed to admire. Rather the esoteric symbolism of his work and the ideas
behind it. So I tried squinting at it. I tried letting my eyes go out of focus; I tried looking at it from different angles. No use. Perhaps it was upside down and therefore standing on my head would
help? I tried hard to imagine what it was that this painting portrayed, because somebody was sufficiently convinced of its merits as to devote a large area of expensive wall space to it. No use.
And Midori's opinion?
'Its just red circle Mike, its not art at all'. Yes, I agreed, that summed it up quite nicely.
One room was reserved for a large mechanical machine that was surrounded by a fence. It was spitting out footballs whilst making
clanking, whistling sounds. Two young boys, watched closely by a security guard, were scampering about, collecting the footballs and hurling them back into the machine, only for it to whirl around
and with a sound like steam escaping, spit them out again, to the boys' delight.
One exhibit consisted of a collection of objects from a summer's day picnic that had apparently been suddenly interrupted. Two
chairs and a table upon which were a piece of half-eaten bread, a half empty wine bottle, some cheese, plates, knifes and forks. On the ground there was a tennis racquet, shoes and other artefacts of
clothing. The exhibit was in two halves, each a mirror image of the other, with exactly the same articles, positioned in exactly the same places. I once again was compelled to ask the question, what
on earth is this all about?
There was an old American pink Cadillac that had been left to rust, then squashed slightly from the roof down, and stood on end, its bumper
towering twelve feet above us.
There was a transparent plastic barrel filled to the brim with everyday household garbage.
There was another transparent plastic container stuffed full of old letters.
Then there was the live participation exhibit.
This was a room within which the visitors could use every exhibit in some way. There were curtains to be opened to see what was inside,
boxes which played music when opened, models of naked torsos where the relevant naughty bits had been replaced with something you could play with - a bell to ring or a horn to press.
There was a book hanging on a string. On the cover of the book was written:
"What I would do if I had only 24 hours to live". Write your answer inside.
The previous visitors, who had come from all over the world it seemed, had participated enthusiastically, writing their replies in
their various languages, but their answers were wholly uninspiring. One which was frequently coined and which no doubt gave immense satisfaction to the artist was:
"If I only had 24 hours to live I would come back to see this exhibit". Really!
The roof was an exhibit in itself. Glass walkways criss-crossed the rooftop, and from every side there was an uninterrupted view of
the city of Nice. There was a huge matrix of gas burners which had been fixed to one wall. At the time they were dormant, but the attendant informed us that they were lit each night. We really should
come back to see it he said, it was quite remarkable.
I replied that we would really love to but we were pushed for time and therefore regrettably we would have to miss what would no doubt
have proved to be the highlight of all the thought-provoking, inspirational, enlightening, unforgettable (and certainly unfathomable) exhibits on display at this Museum.
'Tant pis'. Never mind. If I am ever told that I only have twenty-four hours to live, then in the state of
heightened awareness and enlightenment, which I will no doubt find myself in, I, shall no doubt be suddenly struck by an overwhelming desire to revisit the exhibition for the last time to ponder the
then fathomable mysteries held within its walls. Until such time, to the Museum of Modern Art in Nice, I say, ‘Adieu’.
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