Could someone march through in costume, ignoring the paying public, in order to (another term I hate) “activate the space”? There is a phone with a video screen, with which you can communicate with someone else in another part of the exhibit, but it’s just another tourist on the far end, if there’s anyone at all. Some videos show you people involved in the story, even in oblique ways, but there is never any physical presence – no actors or cosplayers, and I missed that. But I felt the need for more interactivity. Meow Wolf celebrates the interactive nature of its spaces, where you not only walk through them, you open doors, pull handles – there’s even an arcade with vintage games to play – another space I felt was not so well done. The science fiction area is my least favorite, seemingly not thought through and too dependent on the story to stand by itself. The spaces vary wildly, as you can see below, where black and white gives way to riotous color, or a homey kitchen leads to a science fiction-like corridor in light silver (two photos down). The tremor in my right hand sabotaged this shot of a small niche, which I thought had a Quay Brother-like feel to it, but I’m including it anyway. What to call the result? A funhouse made by artists? An escape room you might not want to escape from? A Disney attraction with street cred? Of course I had to find out. Their commitment to working with local artists and giving back to the community is admirable. The concept has proved a great success, and new Meow Wolf spaces are scheduled to open in Las Vegas (in 2020), Denver (in 2021) and Washington D.C. The space was carved up into a myriad of areas (let’s call them galleries), more than you would think possible in a building that size, and different artists worked their magicks in different spaces. Martin learned about them and helped them buy a bowling alley to make over into an immersive environment that would showcase their work. Their desire for a permanent space was answered when, like a large, hairy angel, George R. Perhaps you know the story: a collective of artists who felt they were outsiders in the market-driven art world joined together and began holding group shows. Hearken, you artlings, “creatives” (awful term, IMO), and anyone not covered by those categories. I went to Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and lived to tell the tale. The author, posing awkwardly as usual, before Meow Wolf’s facade. Late in 2020, Meow Wolf attempted to have the case dismissed, arguing that its employees' verbal agreement with Oliver did not constitute a viable contract, but the court denied the motion. The artist also claimed that Meow Wolf used images of Space Owl-a furry, otherworldly creature that stands seven feet tall- to promote the installation, despite not having her permission to do so. Oliver's suit, filed in March 2020, alleges that, in 2016, when she agreed to exhibit her sculpture Space Owl in Meow Wolf's flagship "House of Eternal Return" immersive installation in Santa Fe, the art outfit-which at the point had not yet become a corporation-promised her an "artist revenue share."īut after the installation became a hit, and Meow Wolf a multimillion-dollar enterprise, Oliver said she only received $2,000 for her work. A federal court in New Mexico has granted a partial summary judgment to Meow Wolf in a knotty $1 million copyright and contract infringement case brought against the company by artist Lauren Adele Oliver.
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