LACMA

It’s not fair to judge the new building and displays at LACMA based on a mere two-hour walkthrough, but that’s what a first impression is all about. So cutting to the chase, as they say, I give the architecture an A, the art a C.

From the outside, the building is light, sinuous and strikingly handsome. You’d think concrete would look heavy, but, perhaps due to all the glass wall, the gallery floor seems to float. The ribbons of concrete above and below the glass echo but don’t mirror, creating a sense of motion. Best is the way the above-ground arch frames the Japanese pavilion, which suddenly looks spectacular. Our tour was with the lead engineer on the project, so we were given insight on how the airflow, heating, and electrical lines worked and were suitably impressed.

We were told that the Zumthor-Govan team had a special interest in how the visitor enters a museum, and the grand staircase does build up anticipation. But what a letdown when you walk through the door. There’s a big empty space, currently occupied only by an almost ugly orange sculpture, with only the great Rivera “Flower Seller” looking lonely on one concrete wall. There’s nothing that says, Come This Way. Yes, it sets you up to wander any which way, which seems to be the guiding principle, but you’re not excited.

Indeed, a lack of excitement is palpable throughout. The concrete walls overwhelm the art. For one thing, their color is deadening. Their scale is daunting. The art seems stuck on. In the James Bradburn lecture I recently watched, he made the point that the walls shouldn’t be noticed; a day later, the walls are all I see in my mind’s eye. There’s a reason no other museum that I’m aware of has hung its art on grey concrete. In the inner courtyard galleries the concrete has been pigmented a dark blue, a deep raspberry, or a black (that we didn’t get to). Again, these are not normal museum background colors, and they are heavy.

I like museum displays that highlight major pieces; here, on purpose, everything is equal.  Nor are there written clues: didactic labels have been dispensed with. A panel gives an overview of what is shown in the space, but nothing is said about individual pieces, except for the acquisition information. The museum teaches next to nothing about art history. I can’t imagine what a visitor without any art history background will get from their visit.

The architecture poses another problem: with glass surrounding the entire space, paintings and light-sensitive pieces are relegated to interior courtyards and alleys. That’s okay, but it means there is a lot of space that must be filled with objects that can stand light, which means display after display of ceramics and sculpture, not my favorite material. And you can’t avoid them, as those are the passages that move you around the building. Conversely, those passages all look out on Los Angeles, its roads and hills, and that effect is quite charming. But it’s not art.

Another first impression is that LACMA’s collection is not great–the opposite impression you get at the Norton Simon and the Getty, to mention the other major LA venues. A lot of the art I saw was mediocre and very little memorable (I love the De la Tour, but didn’t see it). The collection’s unique strength seemed to be Hispanic art, which, again, is not my favorite. By purposely not highlighting pieces, perhaps that hides the fact that there is little worth highlighting. This is something I should wait to evaluate on a longer visit.

My lasting “first impression” is of the Ruth Asawa sculpture. I love her work and this piece is lovely, but it sits forlorn, by itself, without companion or context, because the light won’t hurt it.