William Kentridge

Holy shit, I totally loved the William Kentridge exhibit at MOMA.

This shit is fucking gorgeous and depressing and layered and deeply human, deeply political, deeply, deeply sad.

The bleak, mournful images depict anguish and violence, but there is an unrelenting, inconsolable sense of sadness, loss and isolation. I found much of the films hard to watch; it was kind of hard to breathe, like being in someone else's nightmare. And yet there was so much beauty, so much delicacy to every moment, which bled right into the next.

I didn't read any of the exhibition copy, and am not that familiar with Kentridge. I would have appreciated the contextualization that the museum text would provide, but the exhibition was so crowded and I didn't feel patient. Also, because there were so many films -- many of which I didn't watch -- this show takes rather a long time to "see."

My favorite film was "History of the Main Complaint" and I was utterly transfixed, almost paralyzed by the installation of nine separate films shown at once titled "I Am Not Me, The Horse Is Not Mine," which was pounding and syncopated and overwhelming. I also liked the large scale pen and ink works titled "Walking Man" and "Telephone Lady."

Kentridge's work on opera was what drew me to the show, but I found the drawings related to The Magic Flute and The Nose were the least compelling parts (except The Nose pieces that were used in "I Am Not Me, The Horse Is Not Mine).