I managed to get to the exhibit "Italics: Italian Art between Tradition and Revolution 1968–2008" at the Museum of Contemporary Art before it closed yesterday.
This was one of my favorite pieces, Mario Ceroli’s Le bandiere di tutto il mondo (Flags of the Whole World). It's made of long zinc containers filled with different colored substances--bright red, pink, green dust; charcoal; glass, etc. I didn't see the title or read about it while I was looking at it--I just enjoyed its sheer existence, like a child's paint palette magnified 1,000 percent. There were several signs warning viewers not to touch but I did spy some finger impressions on one end.
Other works that caught my attention included a series of Polaroids by Carlo Mollino and little brightly colored, oddly cheerful doodles by Vanessa Beecroft that were like a combination of animation cels and Daily Candy-like, fashiony sketches--but featuring elongated women throwing up or involved in other vaguely disturbing actions. There was also a black-lit room criss-crossed in white thread that made me feel like I was in Tron.
It was good to see some Italian art other than the ancient and Renaissance-era stuff that the country is known for, although I can't say I came away with any sort of enhanced knowledge about the scene or the country, but perhaps that's because I already know a fair bit about it. I also took my standard approach when viewing art at museums: I just look at what draws my attention and ignore what doesn't. I don't believe you have to look at every single piece of art in a museum, or even that you should. It makes art into homework. Art is not always meant to be understood--it is meant to be experienced. And if the experience of a particular work doesn't mean anything to you--that's OK.
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