Hey boy hey I’m back with more Mattress Factory photos. Everything you see here will be from the main Mattress Factory building.
I was so entranced by the funhouse-mirror effect that the weird foil stuff on the walls had that I never actually bothered to read anything about this exhibit. I don’t even know what it was called, but maybe I should move my dying plants there because the set-up seems way better than what I have at home.
(Also Janna is going to kill me for posting this picture because that is obviously not what she looks like at all.)
Plant room selfie.
The next room was an Allan Wexler experience in levels and architecture. It was not my favorite but Chooch was really drawn to it, probably because it appealed to his nerdy, analytical mind.
I did, however, enjoy the intravenous coffee table.
Here’s a random picture from the fire escape:
If you don’t take gratuitous selfies in the permanent Yayoi Kusama room, then have you really Mattress Factory’d? This is always the crowd pleaser whenever I bring new people to this joint, and it’s not surprising that this is the only thing that Chooch remembers from his past visits.
I read recently that Russell Wilson shut down the Seattle Art Museum to take Ciara to see the Kusama retrospective for their anniversary. LUCKY.
There’s a permanent Greer Lankton exhibit on one of the floors, but it was recently expanded to include a temporary display of old works that her family lent to the museum, and we were shook. I already liked her a lot, but these drawings and paintings give a deeper look into her life.
Funny enough, we entered this room in reverse order and apparently missed the sign that warned of sexually explicit content, so I had no idea what we were getting into until Chooch wandered off, then came back and said, “UM PLEASE COME HERE” and pointed out a super porn-y drawing which made me crack up. I sent a picture to Henry who was like GOOD JOB ERIN but really he was like NICE THIS IS MY NEW FAVORITE ART.
Honestly though, most of it was really sad, emotionally disturbing, and worked as raw and visceral diary excerpts.
None of these are the one that disturbed Chooch, but on the way out, he pointed out another one called, “Cunt on a Stick” and mumbled, “Nice. Real nice.”
And then on the way home, it was all “THAT GREER LANKTON ROOM WAS PRETTY GOOD, DON’T YOU THINK?”
This is the permanent Lankton exhibit, called, “It’s All About Me, Not you.” I highly recommend exploring her work. She was fucking fascinating.
“What, hold on…” Chooch said, before tossing a brooding stare over his shoulder. “OK, now take my picture.” The Mattress Factory triggered his inner model, you guys. He was like this the whole afternoon and it was starting to creep me out a little.
These remind me of serial killer prison art and I would gladly hang them all in my bedroom.
Chooch got a B in stupid art this semester because when he leaves the school to go to the Gifted Center, he misses art class sometimes and therefore is unable to finish projects and I think this is fucking bullshit because:
- it sometimes feels like the regular school punishes the gifted students in stupid ways like this;
- art shouldn’t be graded
I feel like having experiences like we had last Saturday afternoon at the Mattress Factory is worth more than whatever bullshit busy work an elementary school art teacher is doling out. (Not knocking art teachers at all but the one at his school has been a pain in the ass since the beginning.) I suggested he write a review of his day looking at real art and turn it in to her, but then I’m afraid he’s just going to be like, “I SAW LOTS OF DICKS DRAWN WITH CRAYONS AT THE MATTRESS FACTORY.”