Read my latest story, "A Tale of Two Birthdays", at 52|250.

You may have heard about the off-duty security guard at the Seattle Art Museum who took it upon herself to perform an “excavation” of Yoko Ono‘s Painting to Hammer a Nail, removing notes and business cards other people had tacked onto it. If we look at the work in terms of power, as allowing museum-goers to share the artist’s power to create (if only to a limited degree), then what Amanda Mae (the guard in question) did was to claim all that power for herself.

Taken as a commentary on the role of the curator, this is an intriguing act which makes a fair point. Even the problematic framing of Mae as the savior of the work with a “higher calling” fits this interpretation.

On the other hand, her act is also a real use of power—as real (if trivial) as when some asshole tears down all the fliers on a utility pole because they think ads for indie bands or lost cats don’t belong there.

Whether we look at this as a statement or as a real act, that Ms. Mae apparently referred to public interaction with the work as a “gang rape” shows a total lack of empathy for people who have survived that sort of violation. It also seems to suggest a failure to understand the piece. (As this comment was made in an email to an artist friend rather than publicly, I am disinclined to class it as a poor attempt at commentary on the understanding of curators).

ETA: Jon Hendricks, curator for Yoko Ono Exhibitions, sent a response to Ms. Mae that reads in part:

I think you have to consider art in a much deeper, more profound sense than you do. And also, to have greater respect for the artist, and not presume that you know what she intends. If the artist had instructed the work to be returned to its “austere” beginnings, that would have been her prerogative. But as she did not, you didn’t have the right to dictate what the artist’s intention was, and to rob those many people who had interacted with the work before you of their contribution to this process.

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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.