If the World Were My Oyster, I'd Jump In
Tuesday, October 2nd, 2007Last Sunday I went to the MCA for an afternoon of “culture.” I meandered through hall after labyrinthine hall, studying a black square that became blue and green and grey in layers of light and dark as I moved toward it. I watched Andy Warhol’s “screen tests” of the Sex Pistols, then tip-toed across a floor blanketed in vinyl records.
Sitting on a bale of hay next to an eight-year old girl as we witnessed a colorful display of men dressed in women’s regalia from the Old West flash across a movie screen, I wondered what was more interesting–the art or the reactions of those viewing it. And then, after climbing the enigmatic leaf-shaped stairway to the third floor, I turned a corner and saw this:
A giant oyster! (Vito Acconci’s “Convertible Clam Shelter” to be exact.) How glorious! I thought.
My eyes fixated, I rushed past painting, light installation, and sculpture and stood as many a skinny-jeaned, be-pierced “kid” removed their Converse and ballet flats and got in. I shifted in my black patent leather peep-toe heels, shyly smiling as I watched them laugh and photograph each other, taking turns to cuddle in its softly curved embrace. I ached to join them.
In 1990, when this piece was created, I was 10. Seventeen years later, I hesitated there as that same self-conscious, trying little girl. Wouldn’t I look pathetic or odd, I wondered, laying there shoeless and alone once inside?
And then I quietly shuffled away, their carefree giggles echoing after.
“When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So… leap!” ~Cynthia Heimel
Why feel dumb?! I would definitely go lay down in that clam all by myself.