If there’s one art exhibition your child will certainly enjoy this summer, it’s Poke in the Eye: Art of the West Coast Counterculture at the Seattle Art Museum (SAM), on view now through September 2, 2024.
There’s a story that every art history major knows:
Shortly after World War II, with Europe still reeling from the devastation, the apex of the modern art world shifted from Paris to New York City. There, brilliant refugees found freedom, prosperity, and influence, and a new generation of artists blossomed. They were the Abstract Expressionists and included Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, and Robert Motherwell. Their strict abstraction appealed to a population of people in America and abroad who were disillusioned with humanity, in art or otherwise.
But that’s only Art History 101.
Because way over here, 3,000 miles from that vaulted vanguard, something a little different—but no less fantastic—was happening.
“It looks like neon guts!”
Welcome to the West Coast.
Photo courtesy Elizabeth Hunter
Wink Wink! Poking fun at the establishment
Cora and I visited “Poke in the Eye” twice, first with her little brother Henry (5) and then with her friend Kat (11). The kids were thrilled by the abundance of sculpture, like Fred Bauer’s bowl of Super Cereal (1970) that inspired the “neon guts” comment.
Robert Arneson’s Dirty Dish with Shadow (1971) captivated the girls, who stood back to admire the illusion he created by glazing the piece to look like a watercolor painting of a dinner plate, complete with a shadow. It was one of my favorite pieces in the show—a sendup, an homage, irreverent but also technically brilliant. It was a great piece to start a conversation about the concept of counterculture and how art doesn’t need to be serious, abstract, or flat to be wonderful and important.
Carrie Dedon, SAM’s associate curator of modern and contemporary art, put it elegantly: “I hope that the ability of these works to surprise and to make us laugh, and the permission they give to do that in the often stoic museum space, can remind kids that the rules around what art can and should be are meant to be broken—a central tenet that many of these artists adopted.”
And laugh they did.
Adjacent to Arneson’s Dirty Dish, another illusion—a plate of glossy ceramic pastries by Howard Kottler—looked so real that Cora said, “They’re making me hungry.” Both Cora and Kat, familiar with the ceramic process, broke into giggles when Kat said, “They’re glazed—LITERALLY!”
Making art at SAM. Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Hunter
Crass, craft, and fine art
I love telling my kids, who are growing up in a world where art can be anything, how various artforms were once subversive. Impressionism. Abstraction. And, thanks to some intrepid West Coasters, ceramics. For Patti Warashina, ceramics provided a tactile joy and a way to subvert several norms simultaneously.
Dedon explains:
“There has long been a division in art history between craft and so-called ‘fine art,’ with mediums like ceramics considered firmly in the realm of the utilitarian (think cups, plates, water jugs, etc.). Many artists in the ‘60s and ‘70s sought to challenge this assumed hierarchy and upend notions of ‘high’ vs ‘low’ art by embracing craft materials.”
Whether in the Abstract Expressionist movement or the West Coast counterculture, few women achieved the stardom of their male peers. Undaunted, Warashina leaned into the double standards of gender roles and what constitutes fine art. Airstream Turkey, one of Warashina’s most famous pieces, touches on adventure and domesticity, sleek and strange, the chill of steel and the warmth of supper.
And also? “I think turkeys are just, like, funny,” said Henry. They totally are.
Ring Ring! It’s Patti Warashina on the line
Somewhere between Patti Warashina’s toaster tongue and Jeffry Mitchell’s 10-foot-tall clown, Ramzy Lakos, SAM’s digital interpretation specialist, had an idea. This exhibition called for a little more sass than the usual audio guide, so Lakos sourced and refurbished old-fashioned rotary telephones. When a visitor picked up, they heard either a message from the artist or a conversation about the art.
“In an era dominated by touchscreens, QR codes, and apps, we wanted to provide an alternative experience for visitors: something uniquely tactile that connects right back to the weird, wacky, and playful artwork you encounter in the show,” Lakos explained.
My little alpha gen kids were not so far away from the concept of a stationary telephone that they didn’t know what to do—although the rotary threw them for a loop.
“We worked with educators, parents, and kids to create content specifically geared towards our young visitors,” explained Lakos.
This is the second SAM show we’ve enjoyed with activities for kids that weren’t just an afterthought. In a designated activity room, kids can sit and read, touch various materials, or color in black-and-white images of toilets, telephones, or camper vans. “Make an ordinary object extraordinary,” says the writing prompt at the coloring table. Many gracious SAM visitors displayed their own extraordinary images, but Cora wasn’t keen to leave her masterpiece behind.
The author and her young companions at SAM. Photo courtesy Elizabeth Hunter
Art doesn’t have to be serious to be great!
“Poke in the Eye” is funny but not always silly. Take David Gilhooley’s lumpy ceramic frogs, for example. Cora said, “I don’t think they’re very happy.”
Sometimes artists make humorous artwork because the reality isn’t something they can make beautiful yet—or something that won’t ever be beautiful. Sometimes, beholding art means standing in the shadow of a massive, iron Richard Serra. And sometimes, it means chortling at an amphibian-shaped cookie jar. “Poke in the Eye” is a great reminder that both are equally worthy.
If you go
Poke in the Eye: Art of the West Coast Counterculture runs through September 2 at Seattle Art Museum.
Cost is $29.99 for adults, $24.99 for seniors, $19,00 for students 15 to 18 with ID. Children 14 and under are free. SAM offers free entrance to all on the first Thursday of every month.
Hours are Wednesday through Sunday, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. The museum is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays.
