This made me so MAD!

"Art is about the context in which it is made as much as the object itself; objects take on different meanings in different contexts."

-- Matthew Slotover

I have waited years to revisit the Museum of Modern Art in New York. I left the city in 2012, and haven't been back since. Now, it's just after Christmas and here I am, wandering the vast galleries waiting to be inspired.

I've taken this trip back with my closest friend, and he has come with me, gamely stopping to look at things even though his heart isn't in it. And I'm surprised to find that mine isn't either. First we head to the contemporary galleries, where the exhibition seems to be about race or about alienation, or maybe about both. I'm not sure... there's no room for me to think because the art is shouting at me. It's more political polemic than art and I feel assaulted by other peoples' certainties. 

We see a sign for another show, this time focused on ecology and I realise I can't face it. If this is what contemporary art has become, I want no part of it. For me, art is about feelings, emotions, sensations. It's about visiting other peoples' insides, so I can make more sense of my own. I don't want lectures - I want art that leaves space for me. 

Upstairs, I found some relief on the 4th floor, where the abstract expressionists are shown together - Mitchell, Pollock, Twombley, Rauschenberg, and Rothko, among others. Once again, I learn that Pollock amazes me and that Rothko leaves me cold. Once more I am fascinated by Twombley's scribbles, and mesmerised by Rauschenberg's boisterous creativity. 

And yet, I find I am also getting cross. A rising irritation is spoiling the experience. I can't put my finger on what it is exactly, but I know I can't face the 5th floor, where even more famous art awaits. Nor can I bear the gift shop, where famous paintings have been turned into extravagantly expensive mugs and cushions.

Instead I tell my very relieved friend that I've had enough, and we stumble out into the busy, sunny streets of midtown Manhattan, where real life awaits.

I didn't pinpoint the cause of that frustration until later in our visit, when we visited Tracey Emin's exhibition at White Cube. First I must mention that we met up with two lovely artist friends - Rachel Davies and Debbie Taylor Kerman, and it was lovely to experience this show with them. But the most important thing to say is ... WOW. 

This exhibition was everything MOMA was not. The artwork was passionate, intense, emotional, and entirely personal. It was also open and engaging, inviting you to experience it in your own way and to interpret it however you chose.

I fully expected my friend to hate this art, which can be confronting and certainly isn't pretty - but he surprised me. He found his own meaning in the paintings and was deeply moved. Afterwards, we talked and talked about the free expression we'd seen, and about how we could translate that into our own work (he's a writer). 

And that's when I realised what annoyed me so much at MOMA. It's the same two things that made me hate Tate Modern. First, I don't want art to lecture me or tell me what to think - I want it to make me feel. Second, I don't like to see art taken out of context. I realise we have to have art museums and that they help tell the story of art, but personally, I find it difficult to see paintings ripped from their original context. I can't fully engage with an artist's vision when there's another, different artist right just feet away. It feels like being in a room where everyone is shouting at the same time and no-one can actually be heard.

The clamour of all those voices was causing my irritation. I felt like I wanted to yell out "everyone shut up - speak one by one!"

But I also felt cheated. I wanted to see these artists express their entire vision, not just have one piece taken completely out of context. Yes the huge Pollock is impressive, but imagine how much more impressive it would be if we could wander through all the work Pollock made in that particular year and feel the impact of that.

Now, I'm not a fool. I know that - with the exception of a rare retrospective - this just isn't possible. And I know art museums serve an important purpose. But I also know I probably won't visit another one unless it's for a specific show.  I want to be moved and intrigued by art. I want to be immersed in the artist's world. I want to see what they see and feel some of what they feel and I want them to have the space in which to share that with me.

My trip to New York was exciting and inspiring for many different reasons (boy do I love that city!) but perhaps my main takeaway was this: I got much closer to understanding my own thoughts and values when it comes to art. I no longer have to wonder where I want my art to fit or what I want it to do. I know for sure now. And it will never be in MOMA!