Art + Kids = Good

Last night at the dinner table, three year old Iain said: "remember when we went to the Murakami show?" I don't know what made him think of Murakami while eating chicken burritos— especially since we saw ©Murakami over six months ago at MOCA—but, no matter. I'm continually amazed at how much a kid can take in and remember; I swear my little guy has a photographic memory, particularly for all things visual. He's seen a lot of art in his short life, but evidently he loves Murakami as much as mommy. I remember defending the ©Murakami exhibition to a colleague (is the term "colleague" even used outside of academia?) and this got me thinking about how academics and critics can kill the entire experience of art. There is no shortage of scholarly debate surrounding the merits, of lack thereof, of Murakami, and although I've read quite a bit of it, I can't say that it's made me more or less an appreciator of his work. For me, debating the merits of Murakami is a bit like agonizing over the nutritional value of the world's most delicious cheesecake. The consumption of perfect cheesecake is much too pleasurable to even consider fat, calories, et al, so why bother? Experiencing a Murakami exhibition is wildly, visually delicious, it makes me happy, and his total over-the-topness transcends the intellect and cuts straight to the heart (like most good art). Even a three year old could tell you that.

Happy Flowers

Last weekend, I had the utterly inspiring and mind-blowing experience of seeing the ©Murakami exhibition at MOCA in L.A. The youngest art critic in our family gave the show a big thumbs up and spent two hours in rapt fascination at the sight of Murakami's superflatalicious paintings, sculptures, animations, and glorious installations. I was overwhelmed by the explosion of color, pattern, imagination, insanely surreal imagery, and, of course, happy flowers. To see Murakami's work in person is transformative—for both children and adults. There are some naysayers who take issue with the conflation of art and commerce, but, I view the interweaving of high and low, culture and consumption, museum and boutique as a brilliant commentary on the current state of the bizarre world in which we live.

Speaking of consumption, one of my favorite forms of shopping is consuming the pre-consumed. After the Murakami show, we visited our friends Jeffery and Rita in Claremont. Rita is the director of the Oldenborg Center, where, several years ago, I gave a presentation on the Superflat phenomenon to a fantastic audience of young, dare I call them: scholars. Last week, this supercool (1970s?), wonderfully kitch coffee dispenser was unearthed from some forgotten corner in Oldenborg. Isn't it Murakami-esque? It is now in my possession and I can't wait to have an opportunity to fill it with mulled wine or hot cider or the strongest of holiday spirits—glogg—and bust it out at my next party. The perfect excuse to wear my bright yellow, holiday caftan from Palm Springs. Thanks, Rita.