The experience was a case of overlapping senses and time lines. It was multidimensional.
|Stillman and Birn Beta, graphite, Lamy pen, water soluble black ink and watercolor pencils.|
I arrived early enough to sketch the domed tower from my car outside in the free parking lot. As far as I know, the dome is the only addition (1997) to the architecture of the building since the collection opened in 1952. At the same time, a cafe and reflecting pools were added on the north and west side of the building. Various interior remodeling projects have ensued.
Haunting tones of the human voice echoed out into the entry way from Jessika Kenney's installation, "Anchor Zero". It's the last day of this show. I stood in the cube-like bamboo structure, called "Breathing Room" and read this poem:
|I hadn't thought of breath as line before.|
I wandered through rooms occupied by wall-sized videos of a figure walking through dreamlike forests, all in gray scale tones of black and white. The tonal scales of voice rose and fell, following me through to a side room of the next exhibit.
It was opening day of "Future Ruins" by Rodrigo Valenzuela. A "construction/destruction zone" of scaffolds and gritty papered floors is the environment, vague images of building shapes and bridges on the background walls. Large scale black and white images of "future ruins" hang from the scaffolds, dimly lit by spotlights. (See the artist's statement here.)
Already suffering from mid-winter grays, I found the color break I was craving in the gift shop. Giorgio Morandi himself (1890-1964) could have placed this collection of pots on one of the upper shelves. It warmed my cold winter palette and made me smile.
I felt present, past and future swirling around me at the museum today.