Masstransiscope: Restored and Reconsidered
Sophia
Powers
You
might be riding the Q train into Manhattan—gaze shifting between the
words of the paperback in your hand and the feet of the passengers facing you
– when, something catches
your eye. ItÕs not in the subway
car. Beyond the window, somehow,
you see a moving image. It began
as a red dot, then encircled by a green-orange strand of what might be
spaghetti, exploded into a writhing nucleus of color and settled out into a
momentarily calming horizon between sea and sunset sky. Then blacknessÉ And itÕs back! A box becomes a boy becomes a folding and
unfolding accordion, giving way to a spaceship soaring parallel for a few
seconds with the train.
The
work, dubbed Masstransiscope, was
originally installed in 1980 in the abandoned Myrtle Avenue subway station in
Brooklyn by the New York-based artist Bill Brand. It was inspired by the zoetrope, a popular19th
century optical toy that was first developed in China almost two thousand years
ago and marked an important step in the development of early cinema in modern
times. Much celebrated upon its
initial installation, however, BrandÕs piece was gradually effaced with grime
and graffiti until its images ceased to move and were eventually erased
altogether. Miraculously, in 2008,
Masstransiscope got a second
lease on life. With the help of
many a magnanimous supporter, Brand was finally able to remove all 228
hand-painted panels from the metro station and restore them to their original
rainbow resplendence.
As
I rode the Q train through the spiffed-up Myrtle Avenue Station, I was left
wondering with everyone else: ÒWhat have I just seen?Ó But the nature of the
question might have been a little different for me than for the disaffected
secretary to my right or the little Indian girl to my left—both of whom
hadnÕt noticed the piece until I pointed it out. In their case, the surprise was the piece itself; the shock of a moving picture
outside the subway window, followed by the natural curiosity of what it was,
how it got there, and how it works.
I, on the other hand, was left wondering, ÒWhy those images?Ó Why a spaceship? Why the accordion like figure? A noodleÉreally?
Even
if it wasnÕt meant to be a
noodle, it sure looked like pasta!
And with a relatively anonymous piece like this, who was to say either
way? After watching the
installation a few times, I was no less delighted by its apparition but
increasingly put off by its actual appearance. Which brings me to a question that I believe is significant
to our appreciation and appraisal of so much of contemporary art, whether on
the gallery wall or oneÕs daily commute, the big question of this little
article: does form suffice for content?
While
I am duly impressed by the pieceÕs conceptual underpinnings, its execution
leaves me unmoved. The idea could
have lent itself to so much – both visually and narratively, but in my
eyes it ended up looking a bit too much like a toddlerÕs cartoon from 1970s
public television.
ItÕs
true that Bill Brand had a very good idea. Indeed, a number of companies thought so too—like and
BMW and Columbia Pictures, who subsequently put up ads based on the same
concept in Tokyo, Boston, and even New Jersey. Considering the corporate renditions against the independent
artistÕs, however, I canÕt help
feeling like perhaps the former have produced art works comparable to, if not
more interesting than, BrandÕs.
Just across the Hudson in New Jersey, for instance, thereÕs a trailer
for the Denzel Washington thriller The Taking of Pelham 123, which is incidentally set on a moving subway
car. While I have little interest
in the movie itself, the innovative trailer makes for a pleasing subway
spectacle worth the seconds that the images flash by. Clearly this is a highly effective advertising
campaign, but it is also a visually interesting experience in its own right.
Remarkably,
BillÕs initial idea for the piece was a sort of film-buffÕs take on the
campaign that Focus Features would initiate decades later. He wanted the Myrtle Avenue station to
serve as the site for an on-going installation for which he would paint and
install a new set of panels each week.
Any given sequence would represent a single scene from an old movie, so
that after a year or so, commuters could actually watch an entire film. Brilliant! But far too ambitious to be attempted.
In
a recent public lecture at the New York Transit Museum, Bill explained a bit
about the genesis of the more manageable content that ended up as the Masstransiscope we now know.
He said he was particularly inspired by Diego Rivera and his massive
Rockefeller Center mural, Man at the Crossroads (1933), which was subsequently destroyed for the
artistÕs refusal to paint over LeninÕs portrait. Brand liked how much the artist tried to pack into one
picture—capitalists in one corner, the cosmos in the other. ÒThese grand ideas—I tried to
abstract them.Ó The audience
pressed him further for an explanationÉ ÒWell IÕm not sure what the image
is. ItÕs really up to your
interpretation.Ó Somebody in the
second row called out ÒItÕs like birth and death!Ó ÒYeah,Ó Bill responded with a smileÉ ÒItÕs everything.Ó
I
was not convinced. I asked about
the style of the work—had he taken inspiration from childrenÕs drawing,
perhaps? Not particularly, he
answered. But he had quickly come
to realize that bolder graphic designs were most effectiveÉin essence
re-discovering cartoons. Fair
enough, who doesnÕt love a great cartoon!
Art history on high is surfeit with the influence of popular
cartooning—Murakami being just one very recent darling of the critics to
highlight this crossover in artistic vocabulary. But as I see it, cartooning might not have gained much
influence in either popular or elite circles if it looked like the images of Masstransiscope.
IÕm
no less elitist than Adorno, but I think that if the culture industry can actually execute an artistÕs idea better than
its originator, then thereÕs no reason for the outcome to be denigrated simply
because it is made for the market.
This is certainly not to say that Masstransiscope should be plastered over by the highest bidder, as
thereÕs no arguing with the fact that itÕs a significant and original piece of
public art. Still, MasstransiscopeÕs restoration gives an occasion for me to ask
whether the very clever piece, like so many in the art world today, was really
realized in a way that means much of anything at all.