Boston: Day Four

After a full day of walking and the threat of impending rain flashed to us by the steady red glow of the Berkley Building, Stuart and I spent our first day in Boston exploring the MFA, or the MOFA if you ask Stuart who appreciates the symmetry of MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) and MOFA (Museum of Fine Art) especially when the Acronym more accurately suits the title and the attitude of the city. (The F word is a local favorite, and cursing on the whole appears to be a favored, city-wide pastime.)

To get across town and avoid the forty-five minute stroll (yes, we know it’s not that bad, but we’re spoiled and soft) and the drizzle, we took the T, Boston’s version of the Subway train. When it comes to the T, I have learned two things will safely guide me through, “Don’t go to Lechmere” and “God Bless IPhone Apps.” Theres a story related to both.

The night before, Shawn was valiantly trying to explain the simple route from our station (Charles/MGH) to the MFA (it’s own station). The trip is simple but she lost me at the transfer between the Red and Green Lines. As it happens, when you get off at Park Street (the intersection of the two) it seems like Lechmere is the only possible destination. In fact, you will see four or five signs declaiming exactly that. Shawn spent the majority of the previous evenings instructions repeating in the incantations of a mantra, “Don’t go to Lechmere” and it was only this striking repetition that saved us.

Once a kindly passerby explained that park street is a labyrinth of stairways and hallways that pass under and around the tracks, Stuart and I managed to fumble our way to the appropriate part of the Station and catch the correct train to our destination.  We knew which train to pick because of a wonderful little app entitled “Where’s My T?” (link) and Google Maps which gave us instructions on how to navigate each step of our journey across the city (again, looking back, I must admit it was more daunting than difficult). The App really saved us when it told us which train to look for since the Green Line split into four different tracks about halfway along the line from Park Street and none of the destinations matched the names we had been given. Apparently Public Transportation is for the already informed and avid App-consumers.

Once we arrived, The MFA did not disappoint.  There were a couple of Exhibits we had planned to explore and several more we wandered into through the routes of the museum or an intriguing display. Most of our time was spent in the Ancient Civilizations section of the building (a big surprise). We walked through most of the Egyptian exhibit which never fails to be inspiring and also walked through the Greek and Roman exhibits which were, naturally, quite extensive, even featuring a room full of coins. Stuart and I enjoyed a room dedicated to the difference between red-figure and black-figure pottery, one of the things I found most interesting in my Art History class. 

Between the beginning of the sixth and the end of the fourth centuries B.C., black- and red-figure techniques were used in Athens to decorate fine pottery while simpler, undecorated wares fulfilled everyday household purposes. In black-figure vase painting, figural and ornamental motifs were applied with a slip that turned black during firing, while the background was left the color of the clay. Vase painters articulated individual forms by incising the slip or by adding white and purple enhancements (mixtures of pigment and clay).

In contrast, the decorative motifs on red-figure vases remained the color of the clay; the background, filled in with a slip, turned black. Figures could be articulated with glaze lines or dilute washes of glaze applied with a brush.

The big surprise exhibit however was that of the Assyrians and other early Middle Eastern (note that I do not say Islamic because they pre-date Islam) civilizations. It featured two sections of wall from the Citadel of Sargon II.

An Assyrian Ruler, Sargon chose Nineveh (Dur Sharrukin) as his capital city rather than the traditional location, Assur around 713 BC.  Within he built a colossal palace. The details of the complex, along with its sheer size and the impressive guardian figures carved at the gates of the Citadel were meant to demonstrate the immense power and strength of the ruler.

 Sargon was a bloodthirsty commander at the head of a warlike civilization and spent the majority of his rule making war on and conquering his neighbors. As a consequence he has many enemies. The citadel was built like a fortress, imposing in size to denote power but easily defensible and towering 40 feet above his city. The entire complex was carved and painted to indicate his wealth and prestige; especially the throne room, which featured panels showing Sargon’s great victories and achievements. Near the end of his reign (710 BC) Sargon II conquered Babylon and was made king. The kingdom became a lesser kingdom within the Assyrian Empire and then, eventually it’s capital as other parts of the empire began to fall to the burgeoning Persian Empire before it, too, fell.

Also displayed was a part of the Ishtar Gate, the eighth gate into the City of Babylon. It was designed to demonstrate the wealth of the Assyrian Empire and King Nebuchadnezzar II around 575 BC
(same basic ideas as the Citadel). Dedicated to the Babylonian goddess Ishtar, the gate was constructed using glazed brick with alternating rows of bas-relief (shallowly carved) dragons and aurochs. Through the gate ran the Processional Way, which was lined with walls covered in lions on glazed bricks (about 120 of them). Originally the gate, as part of the walls of Babylon, was considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World until the Lighthouse of Alexandria replaced it.

We also saw an incredible Byzantine Mosaic in the process of being restored. I had hoped to see the Etruscan Exhibit because of the focus of the upcoming dig but it was still in the process of construction Peeks inside, however, showed parts of a tomb wall and a beautiful sarcophagus. It is interesting to note that Etruscan tombs differ from others in the lifelike quality of their sepulchers.

While Egyptians built palaces and provided ushepti servants for their dead and built grand palaces, the Etruscans built homes for their dead in hills. The houses were very similar to the ones they lived in -- complete with doors, windows, separate rooms and beds, shelves, even a cat in one memorable case (Tomb of Reliefs). Scenes of the bountiful afterlife and useful home goods (like food, unguents, and work tools) were carved or painted in. They were built in a necropolis or City of the Dead, so that the dead would have a village and neighbors, just as they had in life. Sarcophagi featured life-life sculptures of the dead in poses of leisure, entwined with their spouses who were buried with them.

Next, our tour took us through the Medieval Room (or one of them at least). It contained only two pieces, of which one was a kneeling Alabaster knight. Although the true beginning of his life has not been confirmed, it is believed that he was originally carved for a monastery in Zamora, Spain as an honorary sculpture of the monastery’s founder Don Monzo Averesque.  

While the knight was captivating, the true story of the room lies behind him in the 18 foot-high stained glass window, the centerpiece of the gallery. These stained glass windows, the largest medieval stained glass windows in America, originally featured all twelve Apostles in tall, narrow stained glass windows topped with trefoils. Inscriptions taken from the Apostles’ Creed surrounded the Apostles. Above them were images of Saint John the Baptist, Saint Francis, and finally Mary holding Christ’s body, known as the Pietà—most famously depicted in sculpture by Michelangelo. The window itself has quite a harrowing tale of survival.

This story begins in the 15th Century, nearly 200 years before the knight’s birth. The windows hail originally from England’s Hereford Cathedral, a gothic-style cathedral that is nearly a millennium old. (The cathedral features an impressive chained library that contains one of four surviving Magna Cartas as well as the Mappa Mundi, the largest medieval map in existence.) In 1683, after more than two centuries in the cathedral, the Apostles were separated. The eight Apostles currently on display in the MFA, along with the Saints, the Pietà, and several small angels, were moved to a private residence named Hampton Court House. The first evidence of restoration to the windows appears at this time. The windows remained in Hampton Court House until 1924, at which time they were moved to London for one year before being sold on June 4, 1925, to the MFA.

The Museum of course could not just place the windows haphazardly; to be shown to their greatest potential, they needed to be mounted where sunlight could stream through them. The MFA turned again to American architect Guy Lowell, the man behind the MFA’s current home on Huntington Avenue, completed in 1909. Lowell designed a gallery room with a stone tracery—a Gothic-style architectural piece of arched stonework that supports a window—modeled after the location of the windows in Hampton Court House. The windows were installed in the completed gallery in 1927, where they remained until World War II.

The removal of the windows for safekeeping during the war, as well as their return to the Museum in 1944, caused damage to the panels that was repaired with black putty and lead straps. In 1970 the exterior of the windows were coated with a protective glaze, and they remained untouched until 2003 when the windows were once again removed at the start of construction on the new Art of the Americas wing.

It was at this time that the windows underwent an extensive seven-year conservation effort carried out by conservators, curators, environmental engineers, masons, and glazing contractors. What I find particularly interesting about this effort is the target outcome: The Museum worked to restore the windows not to their original condition, but rather to the condition in which they arrived at the Museum in 1925. Repairs conducted prior to their acquisition are considered historical elements of the art and are left intact. The conservation efforts worked both to restore single panels (typically with adhesives or copper foil) as well as to protect the window from the wear and tear of weather and future removals and reinstallations. The window was formally reinstalled in 2010 with the opening of the Art of the Americas wing. It is now protected by isothermal glazing, strategically-placed air vents, and an insulated glass on the exterior of the building shielding the window from the elements

Stuart and I also wandered through the Impressionistic exhibit, featuring some of the works of Monet, Renoir, and Van Gogh. The Room was amusing for the people-watching quality again. Raise your hand if you know that a Monet is supposed to be viewed from far away… Good, all of you are smarter than our fellow patrons.

People stood clumped up in groups in front of the more famous paintings peering closely at the paintings and pretending to like them while lecturing each other on the obvious implications of the various artists.

The exhibit then transitioned into Contemporary Art. I try very hard to be open minded but most of what I saw in this room I didn’t understand.  There was a Box with tin foil, a piece of paper with a sentence in German on the left side, the word ‘blue’ spelled in  blue plastic letters. There were a few interesting pieces scattered amidst those I was not open enough to grasp. There was a wall dedicated to photos which demonstrated the manipulation of modern and ancient photographic techniques which was fascinating, a beautiful red Andy Warhol canvas stamped with black, repeated images of an electric chair entitled Red Disaster which I can’t really begin to comprehend but which somehow appealed to me anyway and a wonderful kneeling bronze figure affixed to the wall at an incomprehensible angle.

Last, there was a truly striking piece entitled “Pacing” by Annette Lemieux. Created while she was in Boston, the work is truly a black piece of white canvas the artist paced back and forth across with her feet dipped in black paint. It is 192 inches long and exudes this sense of monotony and fretfulness which is the sensation of pacing. It is simple and not particularly difficult to render but something about it resonated with Stuart and I.

Last, we visited the featured exhibit, a collection of Samurai weapons and armor. The suits were incredibly intricate and the masks and helmets especially interesting because of the opportunity for the craftsmen to experiment artistically and craft unique personalities. In the later part of the era, masks were even created for the horses. The idea being that the distinct armor of the individual Samurai would help foot soldiers distinguish them from one another as commanders on a battlefield. 

By the time our tour had ended, it was raining heavily. We had planned at walking back and looked at the umbrellas in the gift shop but ultimately decided to take the T back. We grabbed a quick dinner at a wonderfully greasy burger joint called grillers and I have been typing since then. We haven’t yet decided what is on the agenda tomorrow but I will keep you updated. I leave for Rome on Thursday in the Evening so Chris and Stuart are going to come explore New York with me before hand. We will be taking the train up and are going to explore most of the day. I am grateful to have Chris along as someone more knowledgeable about the city than either Stuart or I and hopefully it will tire me out enough to crash on the plane to Rome. I guess that’s in for now.

Chelsea