Student Blog: Night at the (Art) Museum

Art isn't just for the walls—it's for the soul, too. This realization hit me during a spontaneous visit to the Phoenix Art Museum, a place I had passed countless times without a second thought. The museum hosts weekly “Pay-What-You-Wish Wednesdays,” which is what attracted a group of my friends and I to visit in the first place. Conveniently located directly next to the Phoenix Theatre Company, I pass by it every time I go see a show there. I had been meaning to pay a visit for a while, but I could not have possibly anticipated the contemplation that my experience there would lead to. I was very fortunate to go with a group of young theatre makers who are just about as nerdy as I am; we were able to stop at just about every piece and discuss it amongst ourselves. That is, until we had to pick up our pace because closing time was rapidly approaching.

Initially, I never thought that I would be the type to truly enjoy spending hours wandering an art museum, save for the Instagram photo opps and to be able to say I did it. However, as an artist, my night at PhxArt taught me just how selfish of a mindset that was. Particularly for theatre makers of any capacity, it became clear that it’s vastly important for us to consume as much art as we can across as many mediums as we can. Theatre, after all, is the cornerstone of literally every other art form: movement and dance, music, painting, sculpture, and more. While every other art form transports viewers to another world through sight or sound, theatre suspends one’s disbelief by literally creating a whole world right before the viewer’s eyes, unseparated by space, time, or a screen.

Throughout history, artists have continuously sought to push the boundaries of what art can be. Despite the lack of recognition many historical painters faced amongst their contemporaries, only to be praised posthumously, many now argue that modern art has gone too far. While I lack the expertise in physical media to form an educated opinion on this ongoing debate, I can wholeheartedly testify to the impact of art displays across all mediums and dimensions. As long as it evokes a feeling and carries a story, what right does the beholder have to deem a piece “art” or “trash?”

Our first stop at the museum was Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Mirror Room. In a dark space where all of the surfaces are mirrors with the exception of the color-changing lights dangling from the ceiling, we were immediately awestruck upon our entrance. It didn’t even feel like we should be able to walk in—as though there was some sort of abyss we would fall into should we take another step. Yet, as we pushed through the dangling lights and felt our way around the silent room, where even a whisper echoed, we became entranced. We lingered in the room for a while, trying to capture a photograph that could somehow do it justice. However, the longer we stayed, the more we figured out how the effect was achieved, and the more our curiosity took over. The less magical it became. Still, for a theatre artist, the value of that exhibit was unmistakable. I would argue it was a masterclass in suspension of disbelief. Merriam-Webster defines suspension of disbelief as “to allow oneself to believe that something is true even though it seems impossible.” Obviously, we weren’t walking into an abyss of colorful fireflies—but wouldn’t it be more fun if we were? The same principle applies in every work of theatre that has ever existed. When I see the Wicked Witch of the West flying off into Oz, I know I’m watching a tired union actress whose wig is squeezing her head and who probably had a salad for dinner between shows. But which is more fun? The actress with Panera-Caesar-salad-breath or the misunderstood sorceress born green?

After the mirror room, we explored several collections of art inspired by Arizonan history and landscape.  As someone from a part of the country that’s rarely depicted in theatre, it was refreshing to see how our geography and lifestyle could be expressed through other art forms. It was especially interesting to consider the Sonoran Desert—its natural beauty, its harshness, and its effects on those who live within it. Many pieces focused on indigenous peoples in the region, a group whose stories are often left untold within the broader context of American history. As Hollywood's romanticization of the Wild West dominated the mid-20th century, the real stories of cowboys—often Native Americans and freed slaves—were diminished. The Arizona-inspired collections varied, some depicting the desert as a fantastical other world, while others portrayed it as a barren hellscape. The rare depictions of the Arizonan high country, with its great cliffs, waterfalls, and snow, stood out in particular—especially in pieces like “Cowboy Funeral.”

Following our journey through the Arizona exhibits, we spent time in a collection of century-old dioramas. These rooms, inspired by everything from Tudor libraries to Versailles and art deco high-rises, brought a wave of nostalgia to our group. We spent nearly an hour poring over the tiny details, connecting which rooms belonged to the same houses, and imagining fictional lives for ourselves within them. After that, we rushed to the feature exhibit showcasing art from the 1960s Eastern Bloc. By this point, the museum was closing, so we had to make the most of our time. As a history nerd, I loved seeing real Cold War art from the second world, alongside a few reactionary pieces from the western world, which were equally fascinating. The subject matter, such as Radio Free Europe, even connects to my current project, Antigone in Munich, which made it even more meaningful to me.

Ultimately, it is vital for all artists—especially theatre makers—to consume as many different mediums of art as possible. There is never any harm in diversifying one’s perspective and expanding artistic horizons. I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the Phoenix Art Museum and look forward to returning for their upcoming exhibits.

To post a comment, you must register and login.