The most striking thing about the opening reception for Tom Sachs’s “Space Program: Mars” – apart from the fact that he filled the gigantic Park Avenue Armory with faithful recreations of NASA interstellar travel machines – was the presence of so many little kids. Tykes bounced around at every glance, some wearing plastic space helmets, some in what could be called moon pants, some just dressed like kids and awed by the promise of space.
The duo of a youngster and Tom Sachs is a natural fit. You got a sense that when they looked into the guts of the Mars lander, they thought they were actually going to Mars. And the whole feel was one of glistening naivete. The proliferation of labels (permanent marker on construction tape) made the opening feel like the set of an as-yet-unmade Wes Anderson film about a journey into outer space. To the adults, who know better, these labels are marks of artifice that reference the sham, but invite us to believe like children anyway.
“Since the manned space program ended last September, it’s been left it up to us to hold the mantle high for future generations of American astronauts,” Sachs told ARTINFO as a few little girls in space helmets stood around, tapping their feet antsily.
“But it’s not really about space,” said his fiancée, Sarah Hoover. “It’s about studying all sorts of elements of humanity.”
“No, Sarah’s right, it’s not really about space,” Sachs said. “It’s about life on Earth, it’s about man’s achievements...”
“Tommy just wanted to have a lunar lander, and he can’t have it, so he had to make it,” chimed in a man who gave his name as Andrew. Sachs introduced him as the public relations manager. “Tommy’s work is about really wanting to own stuff.”
Sachs walked off, leaving us with his assistant and the wide-eyed little girls in space helmets.
“It’s Deleuze and Guattari, it’s simulacra, it’s the fuckin’ cave,” Andrew went on. “Tommy’s a beer-drinking guy, a wild and tough guy, and he’s not gonna comp to that.”
Among the children, David Byrne walked around with T editor Sally Singer, Michael Stipe broke the no cellphones rule by texting on the bleachers, and Half Gallery owner Bill Powers administered indoctrination classes. Aspiring astronauts must pass a test before entering space, so Powers – who was wearing the really dope Tom Sachs for Nike sneakers – asked questions such as “Can you put the planets in order?” or “Are you a fork or a spoon?” Olivier Zahm is a spoon.
Right before we left, Kanye West arrived at the bar, wearing a black T-shirt and notably without his arm candy of late, Kim Kardashian. West has a thing about talking to the press, but when we approached him to have a chat he agreed that the opening was awesome. Then he made a gesture at our recorder.
“Let’s just have a conversation,” he said, staring up with a child’s grin at the space machines around us. “How was your day?”