The TA Takes Manhattan

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eff 1994–2000


"Balloon Dog" (Yellow)
1994 - 2000
Jeff Koons







Once upon a time, I wheeled a drowsing TA through Boston's nap-inducing MFA. The TA enjoyed some much needed Z-time, while Papa meandered aimlessly about Monet's Haystacks. She cooed when I held her up to a Miro (who doesn't?) and scrunched up her face at a late Picasso (who hasn't at one point?). Of course, all that ended the day I tucked her in the Baby Bjorn to check out the David Hockney exhibit and she squealed and squirmed up a storm, angling for a handful of 20th Century Pop art.

The museum guards were not amused.

These days, I just cut her loose and let her dash wildly through the corridors of Western culture. If she knocks over a 4000-year-old example of Greek statuary, well, that's what running shoes are for. Until then, I say, "The bigger the museum, the better." And few do bigger and better than NYC and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. High atop the Met, you will find the spacious and toddler friendly Iris and B. Gerald Cantor Roof Garden. Cantor, who once hawked hot dogs outside of Yankee Stadium as a lad, was a paragon of self-improvement. Not only did he ditch the House That Ruth Built for uptown, he amassed one of the world's finest collections of Rodin's sculpture; one of which is always on the roof. (Note: Rodin's sculpture is only slightly more expensive than the sandwiches served at the rooftop cafe.)

The Jeff Koons rooftop exhibit is perfect for kids. Unlike much head-scratching, video-centric contemporary art that results from the perfect storm of A) a trust-fund, B) way too much free time, and C) public revenge against Mom and Dad, Koons' art is as playful as it is insightful. Koons has a way of appropriating Milan Kundera's coprophilic conception of 20th century "kitch" and making it winsome and childlike.

Like a kid, he makes everything new again for the rest of us.

The TA warily approaches "Sacred Heart (Red/Gold)"


I have no idea what she's doing here.

The TA confronts the 18 ½-foot-tall Coloring Book.
"Is coloring inside the lines just a lie we tell ourselves?"

Taking him by the hand,
the TA interprets Koons' sly mockery of the
"youth-obsessed infantilism of modern culture and society"
to an uncertain Cousin X.

Rejecting glib polymers and abstractions,
the TA contemplates the concrete beauty
that is the New York skyline.

Full speed ahead through the halls of the Met.
(A TA's view of Canova's"Perseus with Head of Medusa.")

Afterwards, we took in
Central Park on a Sunday afternoon.
Few things are more perfect than this.

Getting dizzy on the swings!

Momma had to pull an overexcited Daddy back through the open car window
when he hollered, "Can David Brooks come out and play?"