The weekend is due to start any minute in New York and I want me some culture before it turns into one long mimosa-thon. There's been a lot of talk about Bjork's MOMA show so I decide to head Uptown for a glance at her costumes.
Each Friday MOMA teams up with Uniqlo to offer free entry from 4pm, the usual ticket price is $25 so its worth the hassle and sideways glances from the Upper Eastside queens.
As I attempt to walk into MOMA I'm quickly chaperoned 100 feet down the street to a Uniqlo sponsored queue, as I turn into the line to begin waiting there is a well lit, banana skin splayed centrally at the queue entrance, people are looking at it as it if could be art - but is it art?
A man with a haircut dressed as if he works at Muji reluctantly gives me a free ticket and girls in overpriced jackets tell me to keep moving whilst smizing.
As I enter MOMA the extent of the queue is realised, we're in this for the long run so I opt for headphones and put on some Kraftwerk to get me in the mood. I'm asked to join another queue, this one is meandering up to a large pink wall that Bjork has signed with a massive pen...
After 40mins of avant-garde, maze queueing I'm almost at the front, security ask me to have my coat and bag ready to check. As I turn the corner to enter Bjork's world I'm hit in the face with the harsh reality of a cloakroom - conceptual. Have I just spent 40mins queueing for a cloakroom?
After clarifying where Bjork's show begins and ends (where does art begin? where does it end?) I'm escorted to another queue, this one is to get onto the elevator. After a while its evident we're not getting on this piece of moving metal work anytime soon so we're taken to a secret one that is not yet open to the pubic - #VIP.
After several rides on the moving metal work we reach the summit only to find the queue for the next ride is twice as long as the cloakroom ride. I find another Bjork amusement on the floor below and begin to queue for it, the queue for this one is tiny, hurrah!
I'm given a timed ticket entry, its currently 4.20pm and the next time available is 7pm. I hand the ticket back and push my way past the growing crowds, Bjork doesn't want me to see her work. I opt for a quite corner at the top of the building and suddenly a faint moving image of Bjork is being projected - is it an oasis?
As I look beneath me I can see punters through black gauze taking selfies against headless mannequins wearing her old costumes - perhaps she has conceptualised Madame Tussauds?
I begin my decent to exit via the gift shop, as I reach 1st floor out of the corner of my eye I spot Bjork! In fact I spot the back of a mannequin that looks like Bjork wearing that dress. She's alone, standing still, it's very performance art. It's just me and her, I feel like I'm in a bitchy version of Abramovic's The Artist is Present - instead of looking up to me to engage in eye contact she's turning her back. Edgy.
If I was forced to choose a favourite piece from my Friday night visit to MOMA I'd choose this over sized xerox document found gaffered to a wall on the top floor. I love the seer size of it, not to mention the avant hanging of the work. Feminist, radical, wow.
In terms of structure of Bjork's show I like the ambiguity of it actually is. It's an interesting move for a pop artist to create an experiential, queueing piece that explores the idea of time, space and use of levels. I particularly like the use of excitement, suspense and disappointment felt as an audience member in this piece.
If you are planning on visiting Bjork tell her I said hi. Perhaps consider buying a ticket for $25 midweek to get the full experience otherwise you might end up crying in the gift shop. In the words of the fat English family from Yorkshire as they exited the Bjork piece '..is that it?'