Yesterday (Friday, September 27th, 2013) in a conscious effort to simultaneously re-evaluate my impression of contemporary art, as well as to to do something not based on monetary motivation or goals, I visited Socrates Sculpture Park for the first time with my friend. It is on Vernon Boulevard in Astoria, Queens. Though I am not familiar with the neighborhood, it was about a 30-minute (smartphone-aided) walk from the N subway station Broadway stop.
Before I walked through the park, I used one of two port-a-potties I saw near the entrance, which looks like this:
I mention the port-a-potty because the crap-pickup advertisement I saw on the door, reading: We’re #1 at picking up #2, is one of the best pieces of art at the park. That’s right, it’s not presented as art, but considering a slab of concrete shaped like a dick or wilted radish is presented as art in this park, contemporary art appears to be based on a “gotta get ’em all” approach (comparable to collecting Pokemon cards). In other words, anything and everything goes, as long as there’s a trust-fund provided hipster living to fart out art theories so profound they don’t make sense.
I visited Socrates Sculpture Park in the late afternoon or early evening, around 4 PM. There were a few big dogs slobbering and sniffing each others’ asses and their hipster owners (all appearing to be white) likewise sniffing each others’ asses to get a feel for the depth of their bonding potential. The dogs were all off their leashes because obviously the owners possess the magical power to control their dogs’ every “thought” and move. Despite not liking dogs, I was treated to the risk of being bitten or otherwise mauled, if not simply bothered by one of their dogs, because their owners are as dumb, as well as inconsiderate as they look.
In terms of demographics, I only enjoyed the company of myself, my friend, a Southeast Asian woman who was wearing a sari with a very young relative, and a white and black cat with demonic and mean-looking, amber-yellow eyes. I also liked the clean-ish smell of the grass, trees, the view of Manhattan across the water.
Our entire walk through the park probably took about an hour, or an hour-and-a-half at most. The park is a little bit small, but considering that in 1986, the site was an “abandoned riverside landfill and illegal dumpsite,” according to the official Socrates Sculpture Park “Mission & History page itself, probably most people can enjoy just for the sake of not being inside of a shopping center or wedged between shopping centers. Even though I am not “enlightened” nor “profound” enough to be “stimulated” (what does this mean again?) intellectually or emotionally by most of the sculptures I saw at the park, it is likely way better than experiencing a smelly, unhygienic landfill and dumpsite.
I am not sure if I went to the park on an off-day or-time, but the demographics of the park visitors was the pits of the experience. A neighborhood park, regardless of having sculptures or not, should be publicized as a place where everyone in the neighborhood especially, and other visitors can enjoy the space. I am inclined to think many of the white hipsters I saw at the park consider themselves ten steps ahead of non-art fart plebeians in terms of thinking, and thereby pay lots of lip service to the merits of ethnic and racial diversity, but when it comes to non-Urban Outfitter-types actually participating in or visiting Socrates Sculpture Park or elsewhere, they appear turned off, or their true colors as shithead and dumbass elitists begin to shine.
I hope the next time I visit the park, I can enjoy it with a more diverse, less pretentious crowd. In the meantime, below are some of the current installations.
Wood, Weenie
Cement, Weenie
Soft Material, Weenie
Wood, Not a Weenie (I think)
Wood, Fortune Cookie Wisdom: RESIST ACCEPTING FATE
One View of Manhattan from Socrates Sculpture Park
*All photos taken by me, unless otherwise noted.









