Yesterday I watched an old video of Buzz Aldrin punching a conspiracy theorist in the face. You’d be pissed too, I guess, if you were the Lunar Module Pilot on Apollo 11 and walked on the fucking moon only to be told it was all a dream.
But there are worse things to dream of than the moon. There are worse things to base on exhibition on. “It’s fun to think about an exhibition of art on the moon”, is how Sam Korman‘s ‘Art on the Moon’, used as the only introduction to the Amy Granat- and Annina Herzer-organized exhibition Smoothie Conference (photos, top right), which was on at Frankfurt’s Jenifer Nails from April 11 to May 23, begins.
The group show, which brings in the works of seven different artists—including Katharina Fengler, Carlos Reyes and Korman himself—may or may not be moon-themed; the works do little to relieve this question. Popcorn-shaped objects—moon rocks?—coloured black and white lie on a marble countertop. A gilded sculpture reflecting a golden skyline—moon city?—hangs from the ceiling with black ropes. A precarious tower of cooking pots—moon dining?—rests on a black platform painted with red and yellow flames. On the walls, tie-dye coloured prints hold floating chocolate bars—the orbit of Mars?—in their midst.
“Space is lonely, but so is Earth,” writes Korman further along in ‘Art on the Moon’. “And anywhere we’re not would be ideal to where we are, especially when art and the moon are concerned.” He recommends that an exhibition of art on the moon is an international collaboration among friends: “some friends, a student, someone from our hometowns, and a few artists with whom we’ve gained an intimacy through their work. If this exhibition,” he continues, “is to represent such interstellar collaboration, then it should exist as odd constellations, equally geometric as perspectival and interpretive.”