Avenue of Forgotten Famous People

I was speaking at a conference at the Hynes Convention Center in Boston, but since I was staying in a hotel downtown I took various methods to go back and forth, including walking the length of Commonwealth Avenue, which is a beautiful avenue lined with late 19th Century townhouses and with a grassy boulevard park down the middle.  In each block is a sculpture and so I decided to track the statues, west to east.  What was most significant about this task was that most of the honorees were completely unknown to me.  Now the degree to which that is a function of my own ignorance is certainly up for debate, but it struck me as both sad and wonderful that these people were commemorated.

Domingo F. Sarmiento

Domingo F. Sarmiento looking grumpy

The first statue is of Domingo F. Sarmiento, a 19th Century president of Argentina.  It isn't at all clear what his connection to Boston might be, but the sculpture wasn't placed until 1973, a gift from the government of Argentina.

It appears he was quite the champion of education.  The sculpture is really fine, but it is odd how the markedly twentieth century sculptural style makes it so difficult to imagine this man as a 1850s political figure.

Boston Women's Memorial -- Lucy Stone, Abigail Adams, Phillis Wheatley

Three famous women ready to make a break for it.

In the next block was a rather interesting sculptural group honoring three significant women in Boston (and US) history.  It really is one of the oddest (not necessarily bad) sculptural pieces I've encountered  The three women are cast in bronze, each attached to a granite slab, but the figures are life-sized and are beside rather than atop their pedestals, giving the impression that they have come to life and are just sort of hanging out, waiting for a chance to make a getaway.  It was placed in 2003, and even though the bronze castings are very traditional, they still have a very modern feel.

Lucy Stone was probably the first to really take up the issue of women's rights in the United States, with her writings inspiring the activities of Susan B Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and the more famous advocates of women's rights that followed after her.  Lucy Stone was a staunch abolitionist and was also the first woman recorded to keep her own name after marriage.

Abigail Adams giving me a "Oh no you di'nt!" stare.

Phillis Wheatley was the first African American poet and the first African American woman to publish a book.  Details are a little sketchy, but she was born in West Africa and sold to a wealthy Boston family, the Wheatleys.  Her first name was chosen by her mistress from the name of the ship that brought her to the U.S.  These facts are really so disturbing to think about a human being treated that way.  She died, in slavery, at the age of 31.

And Abigail Adams, of course is the famous wife and partner of John Adams.  I have to say that her depiction here has her dishing out a lot more sass than I ever imagined her doing.

Samuel Eliot Morison

Samuel Morison sporting a super casual look.

In the next block was another fellow of whom I'd never heard before.  The sculpture suggested someone with an affinity for the sea and storytelling.  There was a quote that included tons of archaic spelling (i.e., abounde, etc.) that made me think he was probably a little full of himself if he was actually a writer.  It turns out he was a Rear Admiral in the US Navy Reserve, and known for his books about maritime history that were (according to Wikipedia) "authoritative and highly readable."  I hope that's correct, as the quote on the base did not strike me as highly readable.  And he earned 11 honorary doctoral degrees.  I ought to want to look up what he wrote and read it, but sadly, I don't.

William Lloyd Garrison

Lloyd Garrison kicking back after delivery a fiery anti-slavery rant

Next block, another unknown man:  William Lloyd Garrison.  (And by the way, why does "Lloyd" need two "L's"?)  Very nice, seated figure, but not a clue as to who he is...so Wikipedia must come to the rescue once again.  Seems like he was a pretty great guy...a tireless advocate for the abolitionist cause and was the editor of the abolitionist newspaper The Liberator.  In Wikipedia's eclectic style, we also learn that he sold lemonade and homemade candy as a child.  He was an advocate for immediate and complete emancipation which put him at odds with many others in the abolitionist cause that preferred a gradual emancipation.  He caused a great stir when he burned the US Constitution publicly on July 4, 1854, claiming it was "a Covenant with Death, an Agreement with Hell," because of the way it coded slavery into the founding philosophy of the US. Apparently Frederick Douglass felt that you could still read the Constitution as an anti-slavery document, and as a result the two leaders had a major falling out. This doesn't explain why there are two "L's", but Lloyd was his mother's maiden name and she insisted that he go by it. I suppose Lloyd must be Welsh.

Patrick Andrew Collins

And in the next block I encounter a monument to is another famous person I've never heard of.  Collins was born in Ireland, moved with his family to Massachusetts, was a successful upholsterer, went to Harvard Law School, and then led an extensive life as a Massachusetts politician, ultimately serving as Mayor of Boston for the last 4 years of his life.  I feel somewhat vindicated in knowing nothing about him.  The sculpture is just a bust on a very tall plinth, flanked by two female allegorical figures.  The figures are lovely, but they are so "allegorical" that I couldn't really figure out anything specific that they represented.

John Glover of Marblehead

John Glover being nostalgic about his days as a cordwainer

In the next block, in spite of being forgotten, John Glover cuts by far the most dashing profile on the boulevard.  I'm sorry the light was such and the iPhone camera is so crude that it didn't capture a better image of this statue.  It really is terrific.  Glover was a businessman and fisherman from Marblehead, MA, who became a general of military significance during the American Revolution.  I'm sort of surprised that I have never heard his name before, as it seems that he was instrumental in several campaigns during the war.  I know, that in general, I've read more about the American Revolution than most people, so I figure there is widespread ignorance of his contributions.  It makes me wonder what is even taught anymore in our schools about any details of the American Revolution.  It seems that it may be so far off the measure of "significance" that it doesn't matter, as whenever people complain about what kids don't know, the American Revolution seems so remote that it isn't even on the radar as something that people don't know enough about.

Alexander Hamilton

Alexander Hamilton caught by surprise.

I get to the last block before reaching Arlington Street and the Public Garden and find this tribute to Alexander Hamilton.  Ok, so he's famous.  it's a strange statue, though, and the only one in the sequence that isn't bronze, and seems sadly out of place.  And in an effort to give it some classic toga-like reference, Alex is depicted with a robe loosely slung around his lower half.  It looks most like one of those scenes from a movie where someone in bed has to get up in a hurry, and instead of getting dressed just rips the sheets off the bed and wraps them up loosely to conceal any nakedness...which is doubly sort of odd here in that the figure is fully dressed.










So that sort of ends the tour, except for two sculptures not strictly on Commonwealth Avenue but part of this tour.

Washington on his steed.

First an equestrian statue of George Washington in the Boston Public Garden.  I don't really know anything about it, but in general, it is a lot more satisfying than either of the two Washington equestrian statues I saw in Washington, D.C.

Preachers used to have really great robes.

And then finally, a monument I like to visit every trip to Boston simply because I love the inscription so much.  The statue is of William Ellery Channing, one of the foremost Unitarian ministers and much involved in the transcendentalist movement of the 19th Century.  The statue looks directly across Arlington St and the Arlington Street Church which, though a Unitarian Church, is not where he actually preached.

The inscription:

I see the mark of God in the heavens and the earth, but how much more in a liberal intellect, in magnanimity, in unconquerable rectitude, in a philanthropy which forgives every wrong and never despairs of the cause of Christ and human virtue.  I do and I must reverence human nature.  I bless it for its kind affections, honor it for its achievements in science and in art and still more for its examples of heroic and saintly virtue. These are marks of a divine origin and the pledges of a celestial inheritance, and I thank God that my own lot is bound up with that of the human race.

What this exercise reinforced in me is a simple message, yet one that bears reinforcement.  It matters little what lasting fame one achieves, but rather that we have an impact on those we come in contact with, no matter how great or limited that sphere of influence.

Cats of Great Britain

Tonight I was engaged in the seemingly endless task of sorting and organizing photos in iPhoto and noticed something that makes me smile.  Over the course of three different trips to England, I'd collected, quite accidentally, the images of three sweet cats, each coupled with a magnificent landmark.

Red House, Bexleyheath

My first excursion was an add-on to a work trip I was fortunate to take to Oxford in 2006.  After my working sessions I traveled a bit around the country, ending in London and spending one day on an excursion to see the Cathedral in Rochester.  On the way I got off the train and  visited Red House in Bexleyheath, the house William Morris had designed and built as the ideal home from which the arts and crafts so cherished by the Pre-Raphaelites might flourish.  Bexleyheath is now a typical commuter suburb of London with streets filled with expected London terraces, but when this magnificent house was built,  it sat amongst orchards and fields.  The Morrises and their compatriots actually only were able to live here for five years before financial difficulties forced them to sell.  William Morris never returned as he felt it would break his heart to see it again.  Edmond Bourne Jones claimed this was the most beautiful spot on earth, a claim I'm not prepared to argue against.

Red House Cat

As I waited in the lovely gardens for my tour time to arrive I made friends with this charming black cat who seemed quite at home here.  He was collared with a dainty little bell. He sat and observed the guests, hid amongst the flowers, crept into the open potting shed, and snuck into the gift shop as a patron was exiting.  I have seen cats in bookstores in the United States but that's about the only public place I've come across them.  (Note, I've not been to the Hemmingway House in Key West which is a prominent exception to that statement, I gather.)  It provided such a welcome and oddly human touch to be aware of the presence of this cat.  I'm not sure why I was actually motivated to capture him on film, but there it is.

St Albans Cathedral, 11th Century tower

Just a few months after this I was fortunate to have another trip to England, this time for several days for meetings in a country manor-turned-hotel just outside of Basingstoke.  Again, I was agressive about taking advantage of being in England and took several excursions.  My favorite ever was a late night train ride (thank heavens for unlimited ride train passes) to Oxford for a cone of Turkish Delight ice cream.  But I was also able to take a circuit up a little north of London to several historic sites, including St. Albans Cathedral.  St. Albans was an ancient monastic site, turned to a parish church after Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries, but then elevated to the Cathedral for the Hertfordshire region in 1877.  So while it is an ancient building, it is not an ancient cathedral  per se.  It does make claim to two records:  that it is the oldest spot of continuous Christian worship in Britain, and that it has the longest nave of any Cathedral in Britain.

St. Alban's Cathedral Cat

It also has (or at least had when I was visiting) this delightful cat living in the Cathedral Close.  He was lounging under a chestnut tree but then arose, trotted over to the south transept of the cathedral and scampered into the Monk's door.  He was speckled with tans and browns and blacks and with white feet.  He was a good match for the irregular substance of the cathedral, which unlike most other grand churches that are built of uniform stone, is constructed of smallish pieces of the local flint and ancient brick salvaged from the ancient Roman city of Verulamium upon which present day St. Albans is built.

Exeter Cathedral

It was two years later that I took my last (so far) trip to England.  This time I was to conduct some training at the HSBC training center which happened to be at a re-used 19th century manor that is just outside of St. Albans.  But this time, I took two days before my business was to start to explore Exeter.  (I know, Exeter is in Devon, nowhere near St. Albans). I didn't know that much about Exeter before, but I have to say it is absolutely one of my favorite spots in England. Perhaps I will write about my adventures here in another entry, but of course my reason for going to Exeter was to visit Exeter Cathedral.  This was an exciting visit as with this trip, I knocked of one more targeted destinations so that the Cathedral in Chester is the only medieval Cathedral building in England I haven't yet visited.  (And to be completely honest, I have to admit I have not actually been inside Lichfield Cathedral, even though I was on the grounds...stupid closing hours....)  Exeter Cathedral is not particularly distinguished by size or height or imposing design, yet it is perhaps the most pleasingly comfortable and remarkable of all the cathedrals I've visited.  Its close is idyllic yet full of life.  It does have the distinction of having the longest unbroken Gothic vaulted ceiling in the world, by virtue of the fact that the two original Norman towers flanking the middle of the church made a central tower impossible, an arrangement unique in England...so the arcading marches down the full length of the nave and joins continuously with the vaults over the choir.

Exeter Cathedral Cat

But the significance of Exeter for purpose of this article is that once again, as I sat on the lawn in front of the cathedral enjoying Marks and Spencer take-out, I was joined by this lovely cathedral cat--as surely part of the fabric and maintenance of this building as much as the Dean and Precentor and canons, deacons, and vergers who sing and pray and support this institution ever were.  It is mind-boggling to think about this places of worship where Evensong has been sung everyday for 900 years.  It is equally impressive and again, oddly humanizing, to think that there probably has been a cat or two, here in the close, sneaking into the cathedral and the crypts, catching mice and frolicking here in the grass amongst resting pilgrims for 900 years as well.

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Red House




St Albans Cathedral 




Exeter Cathedral

An Afternoon in an Art Gallery

I've had the pleasure of being able to visit some small art museums in some of my recent trips, and was struck with how much more satisfying these little gems are than some of their bigger, more famous counterparts.  (As a disclaimer, note that I claim no particular expertise or formal study of art or art history and so my knowledge is entirely what can be gleaned from museum visits and keeping one's eyes open in general.)  The Frick Collection in Manhattan is probably the most famous and the one actually loaded with world class masterpieces (the Holbeins and the Vermeers), but the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston, the Palace of the Legion of Honor in San Francisco, and the Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth all provide wonderfully unique perspectives into the art world, all of which I highly recommend.

  

But the biggest surprise was the discovery of the Frye Art Museum in Seattle.  I just  happened to hear about it in passing and am so happy to have spent a couple hours there.  The museum is in a modern building in Seattle's First Hill neighborhood.  Charles Frye made a fortune in meatpacking, collected a lot of European (particularly German) paintings, attempted to give his collection to the city but was rebuffed in some way by another collector's bounty which became the Seattle Art Museum, and so subsequently created this independent gallery.  The wonderful thing about museums like this that are rooted in a single individual's tastes is that you get a window into styles of art that you don't necessarily find in such concentration elsewhere.  The Fryes seemed to have a real passion for the 19th century pastoral, the romantic, the bucolic representation of people and settings that feels really old school compared to the impressionistic movement.

At first, the collection seemed to be perfectly charming portraits like this Shepherdess by Adolph Bouguereau.  My photos from my iPhone don't really do these works justice.  I'm not really familiar with Bouguereau but it seems he had quite a following before falling out of favor in the early 20th century because of the realism of his painting.

What was more interesting, though, was the large number of 19th Century German paintings that were in the collection.  Perhaps I just haven't been paying attention, but it seems like one rarely sees paintings from Germany in many museums.  A favorite painter of the Fryes seems to be Gabriel von Max.  Here is his Madonna and Child from 1905.  I know so little about art history that I am really reluctant to make any comment at all, but this portrait fascinates me in what it succeeds at and what it fails to do.  The mother seems so completely ordinary, which perhaps is the intent.  It seems that Dutch versions of this would have portrayed an intensity and reserved emotion; Italians would have given more grace and idealized beauty; French would have been more alluring.  This is just a young girl with a baby you might find shopping at Aldis.  I don't mean that despairingly, as this portrait has really grown on me.

Another German artist with whom I was completely unfamiliar was Heinrich von Zügel. This painting, Shepherd and Flock, must be pretty representative of his work as he seems to be recognized primarily as a painter of cattle and sheep (of which there were several examples here).  Again, I'm sorry that this image is so poor, as the textures and the facial depictions of the sheep are so evocative of remembrances of the little exposure I've had with sheep.  You can feel that gentle warmth of that wool nudging against your thighs if you were that shepherd.  Well done, Heinrich!

What added to the delight of meandering through the galleries was that there was a string quartet from the Seattle Youth Symphony playing.  There were chairs set up, but the size of the galleries and the central location of the quartet made it possible to hear the music throughout the entire museum.  They were playing Mozart and Haydn, which was pleasant enough, but then they switched over to playing the Borodin string quartet...the slightly anachronistic romantic nature of which seemed ideal for the old fashioned art I was viewing. (Click here to listen to Borodin while you continue).

But the real delight came in the final gallery (or perhaps I was going in reverse order and this was meant to be the first gallery).  It was a small room, not much bigger than my bedroom, really, and on each wall hung a single large painting.  To the north was the largest, Sainte Genevieve (1887) by Charles Sprague Pearce.  For a painting 125  years old, the young girl depicted here looks radically contemporary--her face and features and even the textiles of her clothing make her someone you would not at all be surprised to see hanging out in a campus coffee shop...carrying off a little of a disaffected hipster air with brilliance.  The painting (as all four in this gallery) is something over 8 feet tall, I'd guess.  The cattle, unfortunately, are not nearly as convincing or appealing as von Zügel's sheep.

Turning to the east, one is confronted with a lovely John Singer Sargent full length portrait--this one of Mrs. Frederick William Roller (1894).  This enormous portrait has all the hallmarks of a great Sargent portrait..the thoughtful countenance, the liveliness of the highlights in the eyes and hair that make it seem like the person might speak or move at any moment.  Unlike so many other of Sargent portraits, it seems little intent was to impress with the wealth or extravagance of the sitter.  The gown, I'm sure is opulent, but is painted to downplay its luxury rather than the reverse.  Very restrained but not uncomfortably so.



And then we turn to the south and find this enormous backwards portrait by John White Alexander:  Woman in Black (1896).  This was an artist whose name I didn't recognize at first, but after some research remembered being struck by a painting of his in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts a few years ago (Isabella and the Pot of Basil).  I found this portrait so unusual in that it shows so little of the woman...essentially nothing but a fraction of her cheek and a hand, yet the book, her sweeping hair, the folds of the fabric in her dress, her slouching pose create such a vivid picture of who this woman is, what captivates her, and what might she be lost in thought about in her reading.  I love portraits that suggest thoughts about what is not shown as much as what is illustrated on the surface.

And finally, turning to the west and seeing yet another enormous portrait on the fourth wall is almost overwhelming.  This fourth is Portrait of a Lady against Pink Ground (Miss Virginia Gerson) (1886) by William Merritt Chase.  This portrait seems uncharacteristically misty compared to his other paintings with which I'm familiar.  The pastel nature and the slightness of the detail made me assume this was somethng by Whistler before I read the information placard.  But if it were a Whistler, even the pale pink probably would be more vivid color than he would have included.

At any rate, it was fascinating to view these four portraits that were painted within 10 years of each other...in some ways so similar and in others not a like at all.

These are the excursions that make me love museums.  Highly recommended if you ever find yourself in Seattle with an hour or so to fill.

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