Learn More Than You Can Teach You might find it genuinely disturbing when you encounter one of the many gems of feces littered by dogs throughout the sidewalks of residential Chelsea. You might not notice them at all. You will, however, have no trouble noticing (and being disturbed by) the oversized dropping sculpted from stone, dropped conveniently and purposefully on a white box in the Matthew Marks Gallery on W 24th Street. The piece is literally half of the artwork in the gallery, set alone in the center of the floor, clearly visible through the glass façade of the gallery, like this season’s hottest dress in Zara’s store window. I was taken aback by this inevitable visual. You can’t help but stare at it for far too long, wondering if it is what you think it is. It is. This unnatural defecation has been made with colored stone and clay- orange, red, blue, green- so intricately mashed and speckled you first perceive it as a realistic brown. It’s far too large to be the work of a puppy, but not quite big enough to have come from a giant. It was probably produced by something in between the size of an elephant and a large troll, and then carefully preserved and placed on a pedestal for all of humanity to encounter on their morning stroll. If you’d rather not have the milk from your breakfast curdle in your stomach, take that stroll West and board the Chelsea Highline. Be prepared, however, to feel at odds with the greenery conspicuously placed and calculated ducking in and out of the cement of the walkway. Every New Yorker has at some point or another strived to insert themselves back into the freshness of nature and the fluidity of trees and streams. But leave it to humans to attempt to recreate that world by stripping it of its ability to engage all of our senses. While the highline is undoubtedly a marvel of modern architecture and truly a relaxing and innovative use of public space, you can’t help but feel still trapped in concrete and metal. The plants and water of the highline are literally roped off from the walkway. Signs every 30 feet order you to stay on the path. The unusual variety and placement of unscented and dull colored plants, jumping from side to side on your walk is so artificial it feels like you’re in home depot perusing plants by climatic preference. Knee-high bushes and shoulder-high trees bring uniformity to what strives to be a chaotic rush of senses. You can look, but don’t touch. Nature is for the eyes here.
In the Matthew Marks Gallery, I was flustered by the reverence given to something I quite frankly didn’t want to
