MOMA PS1: Mike Kelley

A few weekends ago, Trent and I decided to check out the Mike Kelley exhibit at MOMA PS1. It was my first time at PS1, although I'd walked by it a couple times on my previous trips to Long Island City.

I didn't know much of anything about Mike Kelley, but I'd read about the exhibit and his work with stuffed animals, in particular, seemed interesting enough to warrant a trip. Trent is a member of MOMA, which means that he got in free and could get guests in for $5. The normal adult rate is $10, but with my totally-legit-and-not-at-all-six-years-outdated student ID my ticket would have only been $5 even if I hadn't been with a member. It's a running joke with my friends that five dollars is my magical amount — I'll do most anything for $5 or less with very little expectation. The Mike Kelley show turned out to be a perfect example of this principle, because it ended up being mostly strange and a little disappointing, but because I only paid $5 I can't be anything but glad that we checked it out.

This is the first time that PS1 has devoted their entire building to the work of a single artist, and Kelley was certainly prolific enough to fill the large space. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that PS1 is located in a beautifully restored old school building, which I guess I could have expected if I had ever questioned why it was called "PS1". Just walking through the building is a total treat, with its worn wooden floors, exposed brick and tall windows — I've never really met an old industrial or institutional building with which I haven't fallen immediately in love.

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Kelley's work is incredibly varied, and it's impossible to describe it as a whole, without just saying that it's really all over the place. There are drawings, enormous (mostly) abstract installations, videos, found objects, photographs and of course his stuffed animal pieces. I particularly loved (and was surprised by) the Pay for Your Pleasure installation corridor, lined with banners beautifully painted with monochromatic portraits of celebrated icons, each paired with a not-so-nice quote from the figure themselves.

We somehow missed the room of hanging, rainbow-colored stuffed animal "balls" on the first floor, so it was actually the last room that we visited. Unintentionally saving the best for last was a good move, however, and I wouldn't have had any regrets about paying $5 just to see this one room. 

There's something unnerving and a little sad about seeing so many childhood toys and stuffed animals segregated by color and mashed together into something new entirely. The room is bright and the colors cheery, but occasionally seeing a dangling tail, or plastic baby doll arm jutting out of the soft, furry masses definitely made me feel uneasy. 

There was a handful of other stuffed animal installations sprinkled throughout the rest of the show and this side of Kelley's work definitely appealed to my love of the creepier, strange side of life. I'm not embarrassed to admit that most of the rest of it just didn't really do it for me art-wise, but that doesn't mean that it's not worth exploring. I've tried to get into video installations and performance art before, but I just can't take most of it very seriously. Kelley was obviously an enormous talent, and it's a shame that it all eventually got the best of him.