There are dozens of wonderful art museums inside Washington, D.C., galleries awash with the beauty of old and new world masters, guys like Pierre-Auguste Renoir and Mark Rothko.
And then there’s the Artechouse.
Nestled between the Department of Agriculture and consulting firm Booz Allen Hamilton, the gallery offers the first interactive art space in the nation’s capital. This month’s exhibit is the “Spirit of Autumn,” which promises to immerse an audience in “a dreamlike landscape of fall” but delivers all the sophistication of a curdled pumpkin spice latte.
Twenty bucks buys the hungover brunch crowd an idealized and interactive version of the equinox — a cartoony kind of fall probably powered by the same technology at the heart of Nintendo’s Wii.
A huge projected tree drops its digital leaves down the three walls of the main exhibit. Clap near one corner to bring the virtual rain, yell in another to call down CG thunder, and dance like a drunk in front of the third to summon a leafy apparition which will mimic your movements.
If the magic starts to fade, move over to another room stocked with coloring paper, markers, and work stations. A curator encourages guests to color in their own leaf which, after a few minutes, will magically appear back in the main hall of the exhibit. And while waiting for that materialization, while waiting to be part of the art, one can enjoy a $12 fall themed cocktail crafter by bearded mixologists (Beer is not served, so don’t ask — you’ll look like an uneducated idiot when you do).
The whole thing is charming, totally childish, and too cute by half. It’s the sort of experience that could be recreated by anyone with a leaf blower, significant indiscretion, and several six-packs.
But while there’s no accounting for taste, an analysis of the vanity is informative. The customers at this museum do not want to observe. They want to interact. They do not want to contemplate on the nature of a work. They want to create it. This is evident from the fact that the whole exhibit is just one big Instagram opportunity, a chance to insert oneself into the art.
Maybe that’s kinda cool. Being new age means bending, if not like breaking, all the rules, or something. And more sober, younger children can definitely appreciate the phenomenon for a bit before getting bored. But what’s interesting in this otherwise forgettable exhibit isn’t the art. It’s the adult patrons.
This city, which dominates all of this country’s laws, is run by unmarried 20- and 30-somethings, the overeducated and oversexed and overstimulated urban professionals who have replaced the older generation of yuppies who left for the Virginia suburbs already. And the Artechouse offers them their version of art.
None of them want a luncheon for that boating party or crave the abstract aesthetics of Rothko’s expressionism over at the free Philips Collection. That museum doesn’t require admission, but it does require the promise not to talk loudly or to touch any of the art. In short, it encourages contemplation and that requires thinking and that’s boring. But at the Artechouse, admission costs cash and it encourages the guest to insert themselves into the canvas. It’s digital finger painting for the aspiring governing class, the shallow stuff a buzzing mind enjoys.
Philip Wegmann is a commentary writer for the Washington Examiner.
