Read my latest story, "The All-Nighter", at 52|250.

Have you ever laughed in an art museum?

Too often, the institutional fact of a museum leads to whispers and an assumed seriousness that doesn’t match the lightheartedness or bitter humor originally bestowed on the works therein. People are intimidated or are trying to demonstrate their deep appreciation for art in a socially sanctioned vein.

When I went to the Yoko Ono retrospective at the SFMOMA, I found the works in one gallery to be particularly amusing, so I asked aloud why no one was laughing. I wasn’t trying to cause trouble or to make social commentary: I was genuinely perplexed. The value of my asking aloud soon became apparent, however, when a much older woman thanked more for saying that because she had been too scared to laugh.

This sort of incident is not rare in my life. It is caused, in part by a combination of my being an aspie (which means there are a lot of social norms I simply do not grasp) and not particularly caring if people think I’m odd or uncouth. I mention the story of the Yoko Ono retrospective as a preface to expressing how saddened I was to learn that Yoko Ono has chosen to support Autism Speaks with her art.

Who I am as an artist and as a viewer of art has been shaped by the dis-order (note: I like to call myself disordering rather than disordered) that Autism Speaks seeks to “cure”. Yoko Ono’s art has also inspired my own artistic practices. It’s a pity that there should now be irony in both those statements being true.

Related posts:

1. I Am Autism
2. Helping Whom?

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