A Tale of Two Canvases
It is natural that when someone moves into a new apartment, they will begin to decorate their new space. Decorations: art, posters, décor of any sort, allow the resident to make this empty apartment feel like their own space. But what happens when their friends believe the art serves no value?
The story of this specific piece of art begins with me, staying in a little bedroom in my aunt and uncle’s house in Wellesley MA. In the days before moving in to my new apartment, a basement unit in Fenway, I was browsing for art in my uncle’s basement. He is an avid art collector and has a large number of framed pieces in closets around his house. I stumbled into a piece of art painted by a family friend, an artist who recently graduated from a BFA program at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts at Tufts. My uncle gave me two pieces from the same collection to display in my new apartment. I really enjoyed the art pieces, and to this day I remain to be the arts chief defender. When I moved into the apartment, I began unpacking all of the various décor. Among their collection of needlepoint pieces found at thrift stores, vintage Vogue magazines, and a Marc Chagall lithograph, my friends and roommate took an immediate issue with the two mysterious pieces of graffiti-style, Basquiat inspired art. Their immediate visceral reaction to the piece has continued to this day.
Kyra Grimes, a longtime friend of mine, was the first to say something about the piece. “I legitimately made Henry put it face down because I didn't want to see it. It just stares at you.” She believes that the weird face, with the large teeth and odd messaging, just present an uncomfortable atmosphere in the new apartment. She said, “I don't know, like, what is the point?”
Polly Bell, my roommate of over two years, also claimed responsibility for hiding the paintings away. She said “Henry accepted these terrible paintings from his aunt and uncle and tried to put them up in our apartment. And the first thing I did when I saw them was put them down.” When asked if they provided any value to the apartment, she said “I think they detract from (the atmosphere). I try and make everything very cozy. I have, you know, plants around. We have other pieces of art that are very nice, and this just ruins it.”
Bell’s boyfriend and honorary third roommate Juan Diaz, an economics student, seemed very ambivalent about the art itself, and more fixated on the meaning of displaying art at all. When asked about the idea of the value of art, he said “This art is valueless.” He said “The value of art is that it makes people feel like they have more class by putting up some alternative art, so to speak. And they can be like, ‘Oh, look at this!’ Or it can be as an expression of a person's actual internal character. I think, a minority of people that put art up that they feel reflects them as a person, and more to impress others.”
On that idea, I asked Diaz and Bell what type of person they believed would display this art. Diaz, without missing a beat said, “I think that they would be schizophrenic.” Bell, seconds later said “I think that the shadow demons would have told them to make it.” Their connotation of the art seems rooted in the abstract and crazy design of the piece, which seems to draw substantial influence from Jean-Michel Basquiat, a prolific a neo-expressionist American artist who rose to prominence during the 1980’s.
Bell believes the only redeeming quality of the art is that it reminds them of a restaurant near her house in Pittsburgh PA, called “Mad-Mex”. “They remind me of a of a Mexican restaurant from my hometown. In terms of they like to have these terrifying masks up as decor. And this restaurant is nice for me, but I would never see the value in this now inside my apartment” she said.
Grimes talked about the inherent value that art can provide. When prompted on what this piece in specific can provide, as well as if she thought it could be called art, she said “I get it. It's like art is meant to make you feel something Like, they want to push the boundaries of what is art. But this isn't art. Like, this is a freaky little man that you drew on a piece of canvas and sell for way too much money.” Grimes then said “This adds nothing to the apartment. You know if this hung in a museum. Sure. Maybe we could discuss. Maybe we could log. Maybe we could wonder. What is the point? What is the meaning? But in an apartment that is such a small space, it's like, I don't want to stare at something so freaky and so ugly while I'm trying to watch a movie.”
The motives of the artist were also brought into question. Grimes, unprompted said “It feels like he's experimenting, and I mean that as an insult. I mean that as a this is not a finished piece. This is him drawing on a piece of canvas randomly with no thought and selling it for way too much money.” In a similar fashion, Bell said “I think that the artist was battling some demons.” She also said, “This art is like a curse, that continues getting passed along from family member to family member, as no one really enjoys it.” Bell and Grimes both pointed out the art’s alleged lack of meaning; as opposed to Basquiat, who often used symbols to highlight racial issues and class struggles, this piece was seems devoid of that meaning. They believe the meaning of the piece is odd, with various phrases like “WOES HATES THE NSA” scribbled throughout. Woes appears to be the name of the character portrayed.
The art, while controversial, serves as an interesting conversation piece inside the apartment. Visitors often ask questions regarding what it means, why it is displayed, or why there are two canvases turned face down on a bookshelf. While they may not always be visible inside the apartment, they continue to make impressions, although their effect on the atmosphere in the apartment depends on the day. According to Bell “it will continue to remain hidden as long as we are living here, or until we can pass it on to someone else.”