MASS MoCA

If you're ever in the Berkshires and are into contemporary art (and even if you're not), you have to visit MASS MoCA up in North Adams, Massachusetts. We did, based on Jamie and Jodi's hearty recommendation (and packing free passes -- thanks again guys) and we we're both quite blown away. I run hot and cold on contemporary (and performance) art myself, so I went with somewhat low expectations. I sometimes find a lot of contemporary art to be overly heady, indulgent and somewhat predictable, but I found much of the artwork at MASS MoCA to be refreshing and thought-provoking, sometimes delightful and playful and often poignant. MASS MoCA takes up 13 acres of abandoned factories in downtown North Adams, which affords art installations of a size that wouldn't work in most urban museums. Our greatest regret was that we had to head out after too few hours to make it up to a camping spot in Vermont. If you come, give yourself at least a full day and, preferably, two.

Here are a few pictures. Enjoy.

In posting these pictures, I'm realizing that I'm only providing the most superficial aspects of much of the artwork at MASS MoCA. Many of the pieces were multi-media installations, with film, sound and lighting aspects and, most important, interaction.

I'll close with one of my favorite performance art pieces that was taking place outside the window of one of the galleries. And so I'll close with the question: Is this art or life?

New England

The Last Leg Has Begun

An autumn sky over Lenox Dale, Massachusetts

How suddenly the tide can turn. Less than three days ago we were camping next to the beach on the Outer Banks, sunburnt and sandy, and now we have unearthed our woolen hats, gloves and fleeces from the bottom of our suitcases and donned them outside. We are officially in the north country now. The time for sandy beaches and swim suits is behind us and it's all about the leaves turning now. That's right . . . fall color! We are officially that (semi-)despised animal up here in New England: The Dreaded Leaf-Peeper. We stumble around the sidewalks, blocking the way for locals, gawking at historic white churches, picture-framed with yellow and red foliage. We buy maple syrup and drive at obnoxiously slow speeds, pointing at fields, commenting on picturesque stone outcroppings and snapping pictures out the car window.

Right now we are at Jamie and Jodi's house in Massachusetts. Jamie used to live below me at a coach house on Clifton Street in Chicago and they both moved back here to his home state 14 years ago. They have two wonderful daughters, Charlotte and Sofia, the oldest who was two years old the last time I saw her at Jamie and Jodi's house down in Hyde Park. Erin and I were originally going to stop by for only a night or two but it seems like we won't be leaving until after our fourth night (we promise to leave tomorrow, guys).

Jamie, Jodi, Erin and me on top of Monument Mountain (and their dog, Bay, to the right of Jamie)

Jodi, Erin and Jamie ponder . . .

. . . the awe-inspiring view from the top of Monument Mountain

I love natural beauty and history, so New England has always been a favorite place of mine (although I haven't been back here in over a quarter of a century). It seems like every street you drive down has a historically significant house and every town was either the site of a revolutionary scuffle or was the hometown of some great writer, poet or politician. Edith Wharton's house -- The Mount -- is down some side road a mile away, nearby Stockbridge is where Norman Rockwell lived and Monument Mountain, where we hiked the other day, was where a picnic attended by Nathaniel Hawthorne and Herman Melville gave Melville many powerful ideas for a little book he was working on at the time called "Moby-Dick" (Melville was supposedly inspired by the humped shape of the Berkshire hills which he could see from his home at Arrowhead and he later dedicated the book to Hawthorne). When I walked to the liquor store last night to get a bottle of wine, I was disappointed not to see a plaque on the building commemorating something of historical significance. And this picture below is not of an exclusive country club, but the Lenox Public Library (which -- Big Surprise! -- happens to be on the National Registry of Historic Places):

Lenox Public Library

Yesterday we went to Stockbridge to check out the Norman Rockwell Museum. Although Rockwell was never considered a serious artist, I've always had a deep appreciation for his sly and expressive illustrations. I wanted to be an illustrator myself when I was younger and I found his observational and technical skills to be staggering.

One of of my favorite Norman Rockwell paintings, "The Problem We All Live With" is at the museum

And finally, a random collection of clouds and colors:

FUN FACT: The Lenox High School sports teams are nicknamed The Millionaires. Perhaps their mascot could be Pennybags from Monopoly:

New York City

The National September 11 Memorial

The Memorial mural plaque honoring the firefighters killed in the 9/11 attacks

We're up in North Jersey now, staying with our Friends Joni and Tim and their sons Noah and Nate. I told them that I wanted to see the memorial at Ground Zero which was less than half an hour away from their home. Erin and I had been there a few months after the terrorist attacks while in town for her step-brother's wedding in Manhattan and it had made quite an impression on me. So yesterday morning we crossed the Hudson on the George Washington Bridge and headed down to Battery Park (thanks for driving Tim -- he sped and weaved through the city like a fearless New Yorker).

The George Washington Bridge

Driving down the West Side Highway with the as yet completed Freedom Tower looming in the distance

One of the most inspiring elements of the memorial are the two reflecting pools that are situated at the footprints of the Twin Towers:

A placard describing the layout of the memorial

One of the awe-inspiring reflecting pools, which are completely surrounded by a cascading waterfall

At the rim of south tower reflecting pool

A short video of the north tower pool:

A few other random pictures from New York City:

A view across the Hudson River of the Statue of Liberty

The Statue of Liberty memorial, covered with 9/11 artifacts

George Washington's pew in St. Paul's Chapel, next to September 11th memorial

We also had some quality time with Joni and family at their home across the Hudson. Two nights of energetic Reverse Charades, some tasty meals and a visit to the stables where both Noah and Nate ride. I myself know nothing of horses and I was impressed to see Noah handling his horse with apparent ease.

Noah on George

Nate holding George for his brother

George stabled and relaxing after a good workout

Bonus Picture:

Joni and Tim: Interpretive Dance or Reverse Charades? -- you decide.

Bonus bonus picture. I find it interesting that the only two states in the U.S. where you can't pump your own gas are our home state of Oregon and out east here in New Jersey. I ask you -- what's the connection?

Cape May Picture Wrap-up

 

As with Ocracoke on the Outer Banks, Erin and I left Cape May vowing to return before too long. Whether we will or not -- it is, after all, over 3000 miles from our Oregon home -- remains to be seen. The Oregon coast, incidentally, is an incredibly beautiful place, with miles of rugged coastline to explore. And there's many other attractions on the west coast. But sometimes a place resonates with you and Cape May is one of those places.

The shops on Washington Street Mall

We've got fall colors to see up north, so we decided that we couldn't delay any longer. Farewell Cap May . . .

Bonus picture:

Believe it or not, horse riding and rodeo is huge in rural Southern Jersey

Cape May, New Jersey

[My 50th blog post!]

View of Cape May along Beach Avenue

After six nights of Outer Banks camping, bookended by single night stays (in Charlotte, North Carolina with cousins Lynn & Jim and in Aberdeen, Maryland at my step-dad Ed's and Georgette's house), Erin and I were heading next to Cape May, New Jersey, which is on the southernmost tip of land, a tiny finger, that juts down into the Delaware Bay on the west and the Atlantic Ocean on the east. I have a bit of history with Cape May. My mom and step-dad had a vacation place here for several years, my younger brother Jeff was married here and, since this was a place that was near and dear to my mother's heart, we spread her ashes in the Atlantic Ocean on Poverty Beach, one of her favorite shelling haunts. I myself also lived in New Jersey (just across the Delaware from Philly) for a few years when I was in high school. I was nervous about what Erin would think about Cape May and, since I hadn't been here myself in two decades, concerned that maybe Cape May was just a fond memory of mine from the past. Thankfully, Cape May is still the quaint seaside vacation town I remember and Erin has fallen under it's spell. Yes -- Erin has become an honorary Jersey Girl. She loves it! And we've both bought about a dozen items -- t-shirts, car decals, coffee mugs -- that say "Cape May" on them.

Sunset over the cabanas on the shore

The "Painted Ladies" along Beach Avenue

Beach Avenue in the morning

The Inn of Cape May

Erin and I decided to pop for a few nights in a hotel. We're considering it a belated 13th Anniversary celebration, which we never got around to celebrating in August. After almost a week of camping, we felt we needed a break (this is only our 3rd and 4th nights of hotel stays for the last 4 months). So we found a nice place called the Beach Shack down on the south side of Beach Avenue and have hunkered down for some tourist-type sightseeing.

The Beach Shack

The view from our room

Erin reading poolside

Your humble blogger posing from the pool

We also visited Poverty -- or Poor Man's -- Beach to pay our respects to my mom. Visiting the beach where we spread my mom's ashes over twenty years ago was the first thing I thought of when we talked about an eastern leg of our 5-month sojourn. I often feel a connection to my mother anyway, but here on her beloved beach I felt an especially strong connection.

I love you mom.

Mary Jane's Beach, Cape May, NJ