I suppose it’s fair to say that I’ve taken on quite a challenging topic today. As I begin to write, I really don’t know what I’m going to say. I do know that I just completed a visit to Beaubourg, Le Centre National d’Art et de Culture Georges Pompidou located in the 4th arrondissement in Paris, and I left feeling both inspired and irritated. This posting is my effort to better understand those feelings.

For those of you who have never visited Beaubourg, it’s a rather bizarre industrial-style structure that consists of metal girders and tubes that was opened to the public for the exhibition of primarily modern art in 1977. Initially, much like the pyramid of I. M. Pei at the Louvre, it attracted cries of outrage due to its exceptionally nontraditional design. Unlike Pei’s pyramid, about which the general public has grown fond, however, the public’s attitude toward the design of Beaubourg is now one of apathy.

Beaubourg

The view from the top of the tubes

Unlike the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay, where well-known paintings can be found around every corner, there are only a few works at Beaubourg that would be recognizable to the average visitor (there are many famous artists represented, but perhaps by their more secondary works). Here, for example, is a wonderful painting from 1923 entitled Arlequin Assis (Seated Harlequin) by Pablo Picasso. Perhaps it’s because the museum is located in Paris, but this painting always makes me think of Napoléon and perhaps his sense of desolation during his final days. I’m not a great fan of Picasso, but I admire this painting because it demonstrates the artist’s mastery of traditional technique while taking a progressive approach to composition.

Arlequin Assis (Seated Harlequin) by Pablo Picasso (1923)

Here’s a more recent painting. It’s by Jean-Michel Basquiat from 1982 and it’s entitled Slave Auction. Experts typically talk about Basquiat’s “primitive” style, which is perhaps slightly pejorative, but I am always moved by his use of color and his efforts to understand his roots and his identity as a black man through his art.

Slave Auction by Jean-Michel Basquiat (1982)

Moving away from paintings for a moment, there is a section dedicated to Jean Prouvé that contains examples of his furniture as well as a variety of his architectural designs. Among his goals was the development of a system for the manufacture of prefabricated modular houses for use in the French colonies. An example of a Maison Tropicale built in 1949 is on display at Beaubourg, although it’s not shown to its full advantage because it’s housed on an outer balcony due to its large size.

Maison Tropicale by Jean Prouvé (1949)

Here is a model of a slightly smaller house that Prouvé constructed slightly before the Maison Tropicale that is on display:

Study for a house by Jean Prouvé

Before I move on to examples of (in my opinion) bad art, I would like to show you one more piece. This is a desk that was designed by André Lurcat in 1930.

Desk by André Lurcat (1930)

But it’s just a desk, you say, there is nothing particularly important about it. That’s true, but if you look closely at the photo, you’ll see signs of wear on the edge of the desk near the chair as well as on the drawers. This is a desk that not only has style, but it was actually used, apparently for a very long time. It has a human connection, it’s not just a sterile artifact, it has a secret story that it shared with its owner that none of us will ever know. That’s its appeal to me.

Let’s move on to some examples of “bad” art. I doubt that a deep analysis of each piece will be required, so let’s just take a look at some of my photos:

Why do I feel that these items are examples of bad art? Because they’re based on gimmicks. Sure, it’s fun to see a crushed automobile in a museum, although I would have preferred to see that floor space used to bring the Maison Tropicale indoors. It’s also surprising to see a picnic attached to a vertical wall. I’m trying to be generous, but I’m not sure what makes Joseph Beuys’s Infiltration homogen für Konzertflügel from 1966 particularly worthwhile.

How about some paintings:

Amazingly, these two triptychs (yes, these are not just two photos of the same triptych) are by different artists, Robert Ryman and Roman Opalka. Don’t ask me which triptych is by which artist, I get them confused.

Do you prefer color in your paintings? How about this:

As you can see, color does not necessarily translate into emotional depth.

The quality of art is certainly in the eye of the beholder, but, in my opinion, the distinction between good art and bad art is actually quite simple. Good art leaves me with the feeling that I’m a better person for having seen it.