he big museum is not primarily educational, but rather a set of possessions shown off by the affluent. Entrance fares are simply upkeep of their capital. Is there a need for Roman marbles, Italian Renaissance paintings, Ancient Chinese pottery, Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist sculptures to be hoarded away in one grand palace-of-sorts presided over by Great Britannia?
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Both eerie and peaceful, the final room is shrouded in a velvety green amongst which his final paintings whisper rumours of Magritte's transformation. At this point, one cannot help but think back to the self-portrait that greeted them, now at odds with the viscerality of The happy donor and Man and the forest.
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As soon as you enter the space, you find that the dialectic of light and darkness is already at play. Then begins the piano, and notes that echo cavernously, consuming the space. In a haunting, projecting boom, Alice Smith begins vocalizing the words, “once again…”
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Curation is experiencing a shift that I believe is well needed, a shift towards rethinking the bounds of the museum from just a place to put art on walls to a more experiential world, creating new, interactive and interdisciplinary ways to view art.
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