Watching people walking by Marco Fusinato’s drawings and taking pictures of them with lenses as small as a tooth and as large as a 24 oz can of beer, and then also taking time to take pictures of the wall text, and then stepping back and seeing that the flow of people never stops; unrelenting brigades of tourists and cognoscenti, armed with nikon olympus and iphone snapping click, click, click; it’s hard to hear over the echoes of the chatter and the works–the recordings of jana winderen, and the amplified spinning marble of richard garet–but you can hear quite clearly the snap click click and whir of focus in the sound dampened chamber that is haroon mirza‘s frame for a painting.

Teenagers taking photos of the walls–the styrofoam is as interesting as the Mondrian, perhaps more interesting for their cameras to take in, repetition and shadow, more interesting than the flatness of a painting, so snap, post, share–dissipating outward, outward, the army labors, building the canon.

MoMA builds canons. Whether you like Soundings or not doesn’t matter: what matters is that the canon has been altered. The waves radiate out every day with new tweets and blog posts.

I’ll have to come back and look and listen more closely to get a sense of what they’re putting in the canon.