Beth and I took a rare jaunt into the city to see
an exhibit about Black Mountain College. We haven't been to ICA. It
sits on Boston's busy waterfront.
Beautiful late autumn day. Recent winds and rain
have denuded the trees (oaks excluded), so the landscape is bright
and open and electric. Chilly with the wind, down on the water.
We parked in a garage near the museum. No means of
identifying where in the
garage one left one's
car, like numbered spaces. Could be challenges later.
Short walk to the place
itself. A patch of grass that children can run upon sat near the
building and decorative grasses waved lushly in the wind. Boston's
waterfront is always windy.
The building is
eye-catching modern, if there is such a thing (modern, I mean). Lots
of straight lines and glass. A hallway oceanside allows you to sit on
benches and watch the waterfront. Boston's most exclusive
neighbourhood coming soon, said a sign.
First floor is
dedicated to the gift shop and the restaurant. We investigated
neither. The restaurant was in brunch mode. Only the fourth floor
houses exhibits. I forget what's on the second floor, the third has a
theatre. Up we went to the fourth floor in a large glass elevator.
I will write in more
detail about the exhibit elsewhere/elsetime. [Late edit: here is the review: Black Mountain at ICA]
The show featured work
from the school community, that is to say teachers as well as
student, famous and not sos. The school was never flush. Josef Albers had a couple of
works featuring tree leaves, more expensive material being hard to
come by.
Albers came to Black
Mountain by way of the Bauhaus, when Nazi unrest produced an
uncomfortable atmosphere. I wonder if William Morris' design work
influenced Bauhaus? I saw no mention but it seems a commonality
exists.
The poets of the school
were under-represented. It doesn't seem like the artists of BMC were
lumped together in a school, but the Black Mountain School remains a
thing even now, however usefully. Why not include a reading?
While scribbling notes
as I toured, I was interrupted by a guide. She asked if I had a pen.
I offered it to her. Tho she was dressed in black like the rest of
the guides I didn't recognize her as such. She handed me a pencil and
said pens aren't allowed. I could keep my pen. Were I in desecrating
mood, I could have got the job done with a pencil, or just my hands.
And I still had the lethal pen in my pocket.
There was a dance
performance of a Merce Cunningham piece. An archival b&w film of
the same piece played on the wall. An ex-Cunningham dancer dressed in
red danced to the concerted piano plinking of a John Cage score. The
dancer was a real dancer, you could tell from his posture and
movement. Visibility proved problematic with the crowd so we moved
on.
The exhibit floor is a
mazy hive but we made it thru all the exhibits. A small theatre
offered computers where you could read brief bios and and hear
interviews or readings from BMC people. Olson's reading from Maximus
was animated and fulfilling, tho I have seen it elsewhere. We rather
thought we would spend longer but 90 minutes seemed to be enough to
see all the work. We went thru a second time, willing to follow a
guided tour. Things had gotten loud however, and it proved difficult
to hear the guide.
It was around three and
a little early to eat, tho I was ready to. A nearby restaurant
intrigued Beth so we went in. The restaurant would not open till five
but a woman there chatted with us. Beth was eager to try the place
because it featured Greek food. Could we but manage the wait.
We joined Satan in
hating on Christmas by getting a cup of coffee at Starbuck's. Beth
looked up reviews for the restaurant we just left. Loved it or hated
it was the consensus. One reviewer said the bartender yelled at them.
Another customer wrote that a dish arrived in error yet the
restaurant required that the patrons pay for it. A few more poor
service and left hungry convinced us to go elsewhere. In fact we
decided to go somewhere closer to home.
Lack of signs in the
parking garage left us wandering a bit till we found the car. We were
om the Zakim Bridge just as golden sunset painted the hills of
Charlestown. The sunset was gorgeous with high clouds and dazzling
red and gold. We stopped at a Mexican restaurant at the mall for
enchiladas. Disappointed with the museum but otherwise fun day with
Beth.
