Art makes me nervous -- especially the "contemporary" kind that shuns sweeping landscapes and pink water lilies. At galleries, I can usually be found swigging complimentary wine and sneering under my breath that I, too, could take some acrylic paint, cotton wool and pieces of a carburetor (or whatever), throw them at a canvas and call it 'art.'
The Slought Foundation is not an art gallery per se, but a non-profit organization, billed as an "alternative space" for "socially provocative art" by curator Aaron Levy (amiable, soft spoken and -- true to stereotype -- dressed from head to toe in black). Six months old and part of a projected 40th Street Arts Corridor, Slought succeeds in its mission to present art that is, as Levy puts it, "challenging and unconventional" (read: completely bizarre). Each of the small, dimly lit rooms at Slought contains works that are always dissimilar and often disturbing. In the first room, I watched part of the current exhibition, 'D‚tente: Russian Contemporary Art in Video Format,' featuring artist Oleg Kulik making a political statement by flailing around a jail cell half naked and wearing a dog collar. In a second, smaller room, hidden behind a thick vault door (the building was a bank warehouse in the 1920s), were two oversized male figures made of transparent plastic. In room number three are original copies of historical edicts, including Cromwell's speech dissolving the British parliament. Levy explained that Slought is like a laboratory for art, "espousing various practices" and mixing genres in order to "engage a number of different publics." Located right under the Daily Pennsylvanian offices, Slought is worth a visit if only for the sheer value of its jarringly unexpected juxtapositions -- where else can one find a Jasper Johns print alongside photos of a Swedish crime scene?
