Bennett Stein routinely expresses great enthusiasm for visiting art museums, but then the moment he arrives at said temples of high culture, he speedwalks around whatever show is on display and makes a dash for the gift shop, which often exhibits a high level of curation. In this excerpt from this DnA newsletter, he expounds on three of his favorites in LA.
Healing Power at The LA Phil
This joint, nestled right there in the bosom of Disney Concert Hall, is so mad groovy, it lifts you gently up a foot off the ground. First off, you walk in and there spinning on their vinyl HiFi phonograph is Charles Mingus breathing new life into Duke Ellington compositions. And suddenly, you are transfixed by a wall of every single symphony orchestra instrument shrunk down to Christmas tree ornaments (above). The detailing on the bassoon, the size of a Bic Pen, put a spell on me. I had to touch it 15 times: the dark wood of the fussilage, the silver keys, the black and brass trim. I dream of that bassoon playing Peter and the Wolf in my soul. The miniature cello, have mercy.
They have, for cryin' out loud, a Post Malone Xmas tree ornament with his ridiculously over-tattooed kisser. As well as Bowie, Willie Nelson, and Bach and Mozart Christmas tree ornaments. Then this fab gift shop has loads of rather hipfully, tastily curated classical and jazz vinyl and CD action, and endlessly cool books on music on the much taboo subject of how really, truly, the only medically feasible pharmaceutical a sick puppy (like me) could ever really need is all genre types of music. So flush all your dope and pills down the toilette and rush out to this heavenly methadone clinic disguised as a smart, well-rounded, multi-cultural, music-centered healing emporium.
Dressing the Art Army at The Broad
This gift shop has really gotten its act together. It has very craftily taken the old tropes like Warhol's Brillo Pad box or Velvet Underground banana riff and turned them into cool patches, stickers, bookmarks, decks of cards, and hoodies. I was just there on Saturday. How was I supposed to NOT get a coaster that says, "MUSEUM NERD" in the coolest neo-psych-jazz font and coloration ever? Honestly, how was I NOT supposed to nab one of their enamel pins that riffs off the artist Patrick Martinez' work? In this case, a pin with just two simple words that got right under my skin. The words? "COLOR ALLOWED," a most excellent pushback on the whole Jim Crow signage everywhere for decades all over the American South. Oh, and I really, really, really wanted the Jeff Koons balloon puppy speaker system. I did not get it because it's a tad pricey, it'll set ya back 750 Yankee dollars. I still want one, though.
The Broad also has most excellently done T-shirts reflecting the newly opened Robert Therrien show. I really wanted to grab the T depicting one of his giant card table folding chair sculptures, it was olive green and felt like if you put it on, it made you a soldier of the arts. I always dreamed of being in the art army that might one day declare victory for humankind.
Sensory Seduction at Craft Contemporary
This is veritable labyrinth of wonderment. First, you are lured in by rich reds, yellows, oranges, and cobalt blue of various indigenously crafted scarves, shawls, headbands, and cowbell straps. You're instantly transported to the Andes, or do I mean Tibet, or do I mean an Arctic circle Lapland worship gathering to honor the reindeer god? None of the offerings ever feels mass-produced or trite or commodified to within an inch of its shelf life. Everything they put on offer... you simply have to touch, hold, gauge the weight of, and plot to acquire. This is a gift shop by seduction of all five senses. And there are several smart sciency items too that test to see if your brain even still works, or God forbid, still thinks about stuff, or about anything, about meaning or purpose. Go here soon, if you dare.
While there, check out Material Curiosity, the new show juxtaposing colorful mosaics, textiles, carved wood panels, wall hangings, ceramics, and more, by Jerome and Evelyn Ackerman with complementary works by three contemporary artists, Porfirio Gutiérrez, Jolie Ngo, and Vince Skelly.
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