In Art Show Down, players—all artists chosen from the audience—compete in a series of art-themed contests, some mental, some physical. They might have to guess the auction price of a Norman Rockwell painting or reproduce Nude Descending a Staircase blindfolded. Art Showdown bills itself as the first and only game show entirely for and by artists—with a faux-Western, “Hee Haw”-for-hipsters theme.
I sat down and watched the entire seven-episode pilot season, but by the fourth spin of the Surreal Wheel I was bored and flummoxed. I’m all for anything organized by a dynamic group of artists who don’t take themselves seriously, but the world can live without another self-referential playground for baristas with MFAs.
Which is not to say Art Showdown isn’t without at least one memorable idea: the “Shmooze and Booze,” in which the contestant—a no-name artist, remember—is given a minute of facetime with an actual gallery director. He or she must consume as much Tabasco-flavored Fanta and cheese as possible while chatting up the curator. The cruel sport of trying to connect with an important art world player is reduced to a minute-long divertissement; the activity is mocked and actually staged simultaneously. And which game should the artist really play? The “Shmooze and Booze” is the only event in Art Showdown that packs any satiric punch. The rest of the time, questions are raised but fail to provoke: Does the show mock game shows, the art world, art itself? Or maybe just red-state benightedness?
Any subversive foothold is undermined by the not-quite-there interplay between the over-animated, drawling host and Big Man, the droll, off-camera announcer who at the beginning of each program intones Art Show Down’s motto: “Is it a game show about art, or an art show about games, or is it just wrooooong?”
The gimmick tantalizes. I wish they had spent more time devising the games and questions and shaping the concept (mottoes probably shouldn’t be interrogatory). I might attend a gallery for an art show about games, but the best this game show about art can hope for is the 3 a.m. time slot on Comedy Central.
I sat down and watched the entire seven-episode pilot season, but by the fourth spin of the Surreal Wheel I was bored and flummoxed. I’m all for anything organized by a dynamic group of artists who don’t take themselves seriously, but the world can live without another self-referential playground for baristas with MFAs.
Which is not to say Art Showdown isn’t without at least one memorable idea: the “Shmooze and Booze,” in which the contestant—a no-name artist, remember—is given a minute of facetime with an actual gallery director. He or she must consume as much Tabasco-flavored Fanta and cheese as possible while chatting up the curator. The cruel sport of trying to connect with an important art world player is reduced to a minute-long divertissement; the activity is mocked and actually staged simultaneously. And which game should the artist really play? The “Shmooze and Booze” is the only event in Art Showdown that packs any satiric punch. The rest of the time, questions are raised but fail to provoke: Does the show mock game shows, the art world, art itself? Or maybe just red-state benightedness?
Any subversive foothold is undermined by the not-quite-there interplay between the over-animated, drawling host and Big Man, the droll, off-camera announcer who at the beginning of each program intones Art Show Down’s motto: “Is it a game show about art, or an art show about games, or is it just wrooooong?”
The gimmick tantalizes. I wish they had spent more time devising the games and questions and shaping the concept (mottoes probably shouldn’t be interrogatory). I might attend a gallery for an art show about games, but the best this game show about art can hope for is the 3 a.m. time slot on Comedy Central.
