Marina Abramović and the Problem With Modern Art

The main problem of modern art, or Are you ready to squeeze between two naked people to enter an exhibition?

If an exhibition like this were organised by a no-name artist like me, probably only my mom and I would show up.

And she’d only come to tell me how embarrassing my show is...

But if we’re talking about Marina Abramović, we can be sure that at least her haters would show up.

A year ago, she — known for her bold performances — held a retrospective exhibition in London.

But to enter it, you had to squeeze between two nude models standing at the entrance.
WTF?
Why?

If you don’t quickly find an answer to that question, you’ll probably give up on the idea of entering the exhibition at all.

But if you stop for a moment and look at the performance from the outside, everything changes.

At the very least, it becomes interesting to think about whether an older man would dare to turn his back to a naked man — or not — and why he made that choice.

Then you start thinking about who you’d feel more comfortable turning your back to.

And finally, you realise:
you’re already part of the art.

And suddenly, the performance doesn’t seem quite so wild anymore.
“Entering between the two naked performers forces ticket holders into a confrontation with nudity, gender, sexuality, and desire,” said Andrea Tarsia, head of exhibitions at the Royal Academy.

The problem with modern art is that it’s often too complex for an unprepared viewer.

It’s difficult to engage people when they don’t immediately understand what they’re looking at — and that hurts museums, artists, and the entire contemporary art world.

Nowadays, it’s incredibly difficult to switch off your emotions and start thinking.
And that’s the problem.

Art is too complicated for people living through already complicated times. And people — who are becoming harder and harder to understand — are also too complicated for artists.

The world needs simpler art — art that can still have multiple layers, revealing itself depending on how deep the viewer is willing to go.

For some people, that experience might even become a reason to think more deeply.

— What did you do last weekend?
— Tried to see Marina Abramović’s work by squeezing between two naked people.
— Are you crazy?
— I think I am now.

Here’s an example:

Would you be ready to undress and attend an exhibition about overconsumption completely naked?

Some people wouldn’t.
So the room would already contain conflict — some people naked, others fully dressed.

And if a fight breaks out in the gallery, as the artist, you’ve basically won and secured your place in the hall of fame.

You already understand the problem of overconsumption and its consequences, so the meaning of the experience becomes immediately clear.

You are completely naked — clean, carrying nothing — and, at that moment, outside the system of overconsumption.

You observe the problem from the outside, refusing to associate yourself with it.
That alone is enough to enter the exhibition.

Then we could endlessly debate who is the bigger jerk — the person who arrived clothed and is now trying to look morally superior by undressing, or the person who stayed clothed and is at least being honest with themselves while thinking about the idea more deeply.

In the case of Marina Abramović’s exhibition, the problem is that an unprepared audience may not understand why naked people are standing at the entrance — or what they are supposed to think about it.

If you don’t know her previous performances, the answer is much harder to find.
And that’s exactly the problem with contemporary art.

By the way, you should read this newsletter naked, because I wrote it naked.
This is art.

Respect the artist.

...your worst artist and best friend,

hEhe and my contemporary art criticism

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