Welcome to Randyland

After hearing the name Randyland multiple times in the past few weeks, I finally had the chance to go. And boy, was it randy… I’m just kidding, it wasn’t (don’t worry this is a PG-13 blog).

Randyland is home to Randy Gilson, a local artist who bought the property in 1995 and began to build a wonderland of eccentricity. The property is completely free and open to the public to enjoy. Sometimes Randy himself even appears and provides history or just preaches love (unfortunately, I did not have the chance to meet him).

Entrance to Randyland.

It’s a beautiful space filled with colorful patterned murals, a wall of mirrors, lawn ornaments by the dozens, chairs hanging from the stairs, and kinetic wind spinners; an explosion of colors and patterns reminiscent of Mexicali blankets, Peruvian textiles, and Warhols. Which makes it the perfect place for an instagrammable moment (which was happening all around us. constantly.).

What I love about places like this, is that it’s the expression of someone’s inner child. Someone (in this case, Randy) said, I’m not going to stop playing, and I’m not going to let you stop playing either. These hidden gems disrupt reality. They make you stop and think. And they make you smile.

Visiting Randyland made me think back to the talk that I attended at SXSW in which Ed Purver asked, “how do we disrupt the rules of engagement?” How do we redefine our environment? How can we create moments in which people can become more present, more aware, more alive, and just a little more happy?

Sometimes it just takes some paint and a well-curated lawn ornament collection.

Thanks Randy!

Mattress Factory: "Would You Bring Your Parents Here?"

The first time I visited Pittsburgh in 2017, I was told that I absolutely had to go to the Mattress Factory. I wasn’t really sure why. I already had a mattress, and what would be fascinating about a factory of mattresses?

Well, I was definitely wrong. The Mattress Factory is a contemporary art museum located in the North Side of Pittsburgh. Their slogan reads “Art You Can Get Into.” And it is definitely art you can get into.

Unlike most museums, where you casually stroll through walls lined with canvases and the occasional sculpture, most exhibits here are full room, floor, or building-size installations by artists.

On the 4th floor of the main building, after walking through a bedroom, we walked into a collage-like space covered by wall graffiti, lit-up plastic heads popping out of the ground, and an assortment of colorful objects attached to the wall. Lyrical by OSGEMEOS is a trip through a surreal, mythical world. It felt like walking through someone’s (in this case, twin brothers from Brazil) dreamscape.

Lyrical by OSGEMEOS

On the 3rd floor, we entered the famous Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Dots Mirrored Room, which was absolutely delightful. The use of mirrors and simple floor decals to create a seemingly infinite space was playful, simple, and fun. It brought an immediate smile to my face.

Infinity Dots Mirrored Room by Yayoi Kusama

In the next room was Yayoi Kusama’s Repetitive Visions. As soon as I walked in, I felt my heart leap into my throat. I questioned for a moment if the mannequins were real. It felt like at any moment, they would all turn and look at me (great idea for a haunted house if anyone needs one). While in the previous room, I felt delight, in this room, I felt immediate anxiety. I’m not sure if that was the purpose, or if I’m bringing my own biases into the space (I guess I have a fear of mannequins?). The drastic change in lighting and the introduction of human-like figures changed my perception of the space. While in the first space, I was obscured, in the second space, I became very aware of my own presence and the presence of these mannequins.

Repetitive Visions by Yayoi Kusama

On the 2nd floor, we entered the darkness of James Turrell’s artwork, and I don’t mean in the metaphorical sense, I mean in the sense that there were no lights on, which was both terrifying and exciting. I had no idea what to expect around every corner. On my right, I followed a dim light down a dark hallway that then turned into a room with a glowing red cube in the corner. But on closer inspection, I was delighted to find that it wasn’t a cube at all! Just a red rectangle projection mapped into the corner.

Catso, Red by James Turrell

Returning back to the center, I then followed another dark hallway into the exhibit and walked into a room with a glowing purplish rectangle at the end. The rectangle appeared to have more depth that it let on, seemingly extending further into the wall. But how could that be possible? We had just seen how the previous room had been a trick of light to make the cube appear three-dimensional jutting into space. Could this cube also be a trick of light, but the inverse of a cube inside the wall? After a couple of brave tries, we pressed our hands slowly through the “wall,” and found that it was not a wall at all! But that there was an entire other room filled with purple lights and fog!

Danaë by James Turrell

The last exhibit on the floor, we had to ascend a ramp in the dark, and sit in chair facing a dark empty, hollow room. We only sat for a minute, before I got totally freaked out and had to leave (apparently we needed to sit for 15 minutes in order to see anything). For me, being in the darkness, unsure if my eyes were open or not, listening to the echoing of my breathing was quite enough of an experience.

After finishing up at the main building, we journeyed over to A Second Home by Dennis Maher. It was literally a second home of the Mattress Factory. Taking over three stories of this building, Maher with friends, built a dollhouse of Rube-Goldberg like contraptions combined with projections, construction materials, toys, etc. On the first floor, you feel like you’ve walked into an intricate child’s playroom gone wild, with so much attention to detail put into every interlaced piece of the experience. As you journey higher into the building, you begin to hear this eerie music playing in the background and cranking of mechanical gears. At the top, the music and mechanical cranking become the main focus, as projection mapping onto the surfaces heightens the eeriness of the whole experience. It felt as if I was entering the set of American Horror Story: Mattress Factory Edition.

A Second Home by Dennis Maher

After quickly descending the stairs to escape the building, I noticed that on the first floor, the music that was so predominant on the top floor had been playing all along. I had just never noticed that it was in the background alluding to what was coming up next.

In the last building that we visited, we were delighted to find a giant helium filled charcoal ball! As you pushed/kicked/shoved the ball, the charcoal pieces drew upon the walls and floors. This was by far my favorite piece in the whole museum. Simple, fun, and involving play! (And if you’ve read my previous posts, you’ll know that I am trying to incorporate more play into my work)

ADA by Karina Smigla-Bobinski

After our visit, we grabbed some coffee. While having some light conversation about our day, the barista asked us, “Would you ever take your parents to the Mattress Factory?” Which is a great question.

Yes, I definitely would. But I would perhaps prepare them a little better than I was.

I had fully expected to step into a traditional contemporary art museum when I entered. One in which I strolled slowly and thoughtfully through each hall, pondering how people make their living off of this and pretending like I truly understand the layered meaning behind the pieces.

At the Mattress Factory, I didn’t have to pretend like I understood the pieces (and I still don’t), because I could feel the pieces. The benefit of installing room-size installations is that the artist can control the atmosphere in which they want the piece to be viewed, which then allows the artist to evoke certain emotions. While I traveled through rooms, I felt delight, joy, confusion, anxiety, fear, and then more fear. Maybe I wasn’t intended to feel fear, but my heart rate definitely spiked.

As somebody who has taken two art history classes, gone to art camp, and participated in numerous art classes, I should probably understand contemporary art better. But I don’t. And sometimes that gives me anxiety to walk into these institutions. I can’t possibly imagine how someone who has no experience in art feels.

But what I appreciated about the Mattress Factory was that I saw all different types of people visiting the institution (besides just the beanie wearing, skinny black jeans type - not like there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just butthurt that I can’t pull off a beanie). People laughed, people asked questions, and people played. And there weren’t any stoic looking guards in the corner with walkie-talkies furtively sneaking glances at you.

The whole experience felt like you were walking into somebody’s weird and funky mind, as they said “Hey, come on in! And see what I see.” As I am reflecting upon my visit, I’m thinking about how we can create more entry points for people to come in and experience something new, something different, and something outside of their comfort zone.