Pardon the absence. Holidays, new internship, new apartment . . . So much, so much! Plus a bright new year! I hope everyone enjoyed their time with family and friends.
Decent rules to live by, no? Found at the Museum of Fine Art in Boston, where I spent early Christmas with the family . . .
I have only been to Boston twice, both times during the winter, and because of this the lasting impression I have of the city is oppressive brick buildings, an abundance of ankle-length navy blue peacoats, and scraggly leafless trees abused by the wind, all seen through a thick gray film. Seems you should only live there if you have enough money to put a treadmill inside your apartment and buy saffron and ghost chilis in bulk [you know, to avoid the mashed potato doldrums].
Of course, this isn’t really the case, and this past visit was lovely. We managed to get the whole family together for plenty of baby S time, plus did the tour of Boston cultural institutions. So forgetting about my cold toes and sniffles, a few tidbits:
I first saw Chihuly’s work at the St. Louis Botanical Garden. Pieces were tucked among plants and floating beside lily pads; without a keen eye you might not notice that the flashes of red amid the ferns or the sprays of yellow and green bursting from the side of a palm tree were fashioned from glass, not petals and leaves. Integrating into the landscape made the work only more beautiful and mysterious. This centerpiece at the Museum of Fine Art is a Chihuly classic and absolutely incredible. But part of me wishes it weren’t so easy to spot.
Formaggio, just down the street from my sister’s place, is an up-scale Italian-ish foodie haven stocked with exotic cheeses and wines, small-batch jams, imported cookies, and all the goodies one might need to craft an impeccably casual-chic cocktail party. Rustic extra-dark sourdough pretzels with a dab of fig compote and Fourme d’Ambert, anyone?
I just opened a jar of the lemon marmalade I made a few months back — little runny but perfectly tangy. Maybe one day I’ll have my edible odds and ends displayed in a bougie deli like this.
The Institute of Contemporary Art perches on the waterfront with a sidelong view of downtown. I love the way this mini auditorium hangs below the cantilevered upper floors, capturing an unspoiled frame of rippling water.
I just regret running out of time for Isaac Julien’s “10,000 Waves,” an array of nine screens intertwining three different stories [each filmed from multiple perspectives] about ancient and modern China. The screens were hung along the walls and center of the room such that you couldn’t watch all at once, but darted from one to another as action ebbed and flowed throughout. We were only able to catch a few minutes before rushing me to the airport.