The Many Moods and Pleasures of Donald Judd’s Objects

I like looking at this kind of stuff. It is everywhere. Just stop and look around you at the industrial design and/or accidental arrangement of stuff in the world. The "art" in this exhibit, at least what the Times has chosen to show in the photos, looks like it was salvaged from a defunct Radio Shack store. That doesn't make it"bad art," but neither does it make it "art."

Incredible to see a review on Judd that doesn't mention Marfa, where he lived and where his art continues to live.

Having enjoyed the artist's work only in natural metal in Marfa, TX, I have never seen his use of colors before. I'm sorry, but it makes me wonder what David would look like painted in flesh tones.

Thank you! Rare and enjoyable read!

For 25 years my husband and I have traveled to and from Marfa. We used to scoff at Chinati and thought it was ridiculous. One day several years ago we went out of sheer boredom and we were smitten. The work is fascinating, engaging, and unlike anything you'll see anywhere go with an open mind and you will be pleasantly surprised. It is amazing how each piece interacts with the environment it is placed in.

In 1968 I sat in the dining room of an artist, some one I revered. I knew a little about the work of Donald Judd and thought it was more than simplistic. I thought it was kind of "pulling one over" on the viewer. The artist sitting across from me told me about seeing Judd's work in Washington DC., namely colored slats placed against a wall. He paused --he was a man of little hyperbole -- and announced to me privately and quietly that they were incredibly beautiful. He was deeply moved by what he had seen. I never forgot it. Once I saw Judd's work I too thought they were rather brilliant and definitely beautiful. I would love to see this show.

Having seen much of Judd's work I am struck at how the digital images by Zach DeZon are amplifying light color and details in ways that the human eye does not see. This is an ongoing problem with digital/magnetic images versus analog/chemical productions of years gone by. In this case they seem to have obliterated the mark of Judd's subtle imperfections, which are substantial when seeing the work firsthand.

As artists (necessarily elitist) we have to remain humble to not out of hand dismiss the criticism coming from our next door neighbor. As is usually the case these criticisms have a nugget of truth along with a chasm too large to traverse. When an artist sets out with a primary goal of exclusion we cannot act surprised when he arrives there.

I've had the privilege of seeing Donald Judd's work at both his home in NYC and Marfa. At the Chinati Foundation I had a near mystical experience of the "space between" and will never forget it. By arranging objects as he does, he defines and invites us into the space that connects them. I've never before or since experienced anything like it. And I will never forget it.

Judd's work is interesting. But as Mies Van Der Rohe once said; "I don't want to be interesting, I want to be good."

I once worked in the home of an heir to the "Tylenol" fortune, who owned seven of Judd's wall-mounted works. The thing about them is, they're precious! They require quite a lot of careful dusting and polishing, or they soon become something less than magical. Of course, you doesn't trust this duty to the maid! One day a van load of well-dressed, careful-looking folks from the Judd Foundation showed up, with their rolls of pure cotton paper towels, et al. God knows what it must have cost. They took over the place, communicating only with each other, and feverishly went about dusting, cleaning, polishing, and evaluating. They behaved like cult members, like drone minions controlled from afar. The whole activity reminded me of a religious ritual, with the Work itself, the "clergy" serving the Work, all being far removed from regular life--filled as it is with messy mortals who cannot comprehend and who might leave finger prints on things... The owner had an array of books on Judd and his work (which I might have been the only person to actually open and look through). Watching the frenzied proceedings from a distance gave me a feeling far from reverence. But then I found a passage, in the middle of an interview with Judd himself, where (I paraphrase) he confessed that he actually liked finding fingerprints on his work! It completed an arc, so to speak; he felt oddly reassured by this evidence of human interaction with his work.

“Art for simpletons”, of course. As well as the old saw that anything bolted to the white walls of a supposed gallery is art, with the capital A, including sometimes heating registers or stray plumbing. As well as a polite scam for making and moving money or cheating taxes. However, I think that this seemingly silly or cynical stuff might actually serve a better purpose. So many of us can’t see beauty unless it has a label designating it as such; can’t taste joy on a walk in the woods; can’t grasp or enjoy shape and color; can’t understand excellence of technique. Can’t attach a story to a painting. Sometimes, we may just need to be pointed at a sheet metal box or a stamped baking pan to get our attention. Experience the poverty of stimulus to perhaps eventually see better. Just a theory.

When an artist's goal is to make money by creating something 'different' from the rest of the pack, the result is suspect.

I got to see Judd's exhibit at MOMA yesterday by chance. I had breezed into the City and had my MoMA card. I'm a technical person, not an artist, but I was impressed with the ambition and scale of DJ as well as the "je ne c'est quoi" that resonated with me. in some sense i liked these more than the masters of abstract painting. it seems that once committed, JD had to complete each piece as imagined and planned, no redo, paint over or new canvass. That said these are not pieces for your living room or study, unless you live on the 6th floor of MOMA.

When I see this type of simple, dull, three dimensional graphic design, it makes me realize how much museums are in love with themselves. Pieces like this make a museum look good. Simple lines and shapes define and highlight the negative space that is the museum. If you took away the museum experience and the professional framing and mounting, this graphics-for-simpletons would surely go unnoticed.