Right outta Star Wars: Afterparty by MOS at PS1 in Queens. (Photos by C-M.)
An architectural installation that appears to have been upholstered with the fur of a thousand Wookies. A tiny video of a screaming lady embedded into the wood floor. A swimming pool that is both full of water and totally empty. Plus: elevators armed with LEDs and rooms carpeted with vinyl records. If you were looking for some astonishingly stonnerrific art with which to cap off your summer, then make a beeline for PS1, in Long Island City, where you can put the strawberry cough to excellent use.
You’ve got a week to blaze and gaze, since some of the pieces will be taken down after Sept. 28.
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Channelling pachamama: Pipilotti Rist’s Pour Your Body Out. (Photos by C-M.)
If my vagina could appreciate art, what would it want to see? Something earthy, I imagine. Images of damp soil, lush flowers, and gigantic, wall-sized boobs. Oh, and lots and lots pink. Well, today was her lucky day, because I spent a good portion of the afternoon experiencing Pipilotti Rist’s Pour Your Body Out in the atrium at MoMA, perched inside the embracing shag-rug confines of a giant circular couch (hello, womb!), with my head resting on a rather labial-looking pink pillow. It was like being back at Smith.
As girly as this 25-foot high video is (and it’s girly), it’s also spectacularly stonerrific. (Especially good for an I-can’t-move-my-facial-muscles strain like Trainwreck.) There’s slow-mo images of fertile earth, luscious tulips, lily pads, pigs and a frolicking strawberry blond, all set to a medley of gooey, abstract tones that seem like the sorta soundtrack you might hear if you’re parked in utero. I have to confess: I was skeptical at first. I’m not big into vag art. But this was quite refreshing. By the time I set aside my labial pillow, fixed my hair and put on my shoes, I felt very rested — and ready to take on the rest of the museum. Rock on, Pipilotti.
You’ve got ’til Monday, Feb. 2 to see the show. More images — and video — after the jump.