Pittsburgh - Art Museums
Pittsburgh is a delightful surprise – nothing like the post-industrial worn-out, beat up city we expected. The downtown skyline is stunning, intermingling old (1700s +) and innovative contemporary architecture. It is a city of history and invention, of traditional museums and avant-garde art galleries, of green and steel, bridges and boats, rivers of water and concrete, cobblestone alternating with asphalt in the streets. Downtown Pittsburgh is inviting to walk around in but confusing to drive through, with one-way streets and multiple bridges taking you on unwanted detours and to unplanned destinations.
We spend Wednesday downtown, visiting the Mattress Factory, an installation art gallery in the North Shore section of Pittsburgh, and the Andy Warhol Museum. We drive through narrow alleys and through seedy neighborhoods and finally arrive at the Mattress Factory – which really is in an old Stearns and Foster factory. The old brick building is unprepossessing, and when we walk in to the “lobby” I can read the look on Steve’s face: “Let’s get out of here.” The first floor entry is furnished with what appears to be second- or third-hand used furniture; the “receptionist” sits at a desk (or maybe it’s a folding table) piled with papers. In one corner is a huge pile of discarded beige business telephones. I’m pretty certain it’s designed to be an art display; I’m pretty certain Steve thinks they haven’t gotten around to putting them in the trash bin.
The receptionist tells us there are 5 floors, 2 of which are closed currently, and describes the works and artists that are viewable. She says admission is half-price on Thursdays, not free as stated in one of the brochures we read. Steve mutters, “I’ll just stay here and read the newspaper; I don’t want to see this.” I persuade him to come with me, which he does reluctantly. We take the elevator to the third floor where there are three installations by James Turrell, an artist who works with light. The first requires walking into a pitch black room and up a ramp in total darkness. At the top of the ramp there’s a small platform. We stand in the dark, hearing, sensing and seeing what complete blackness, a total absence of light, is like. Steve is grumbling, “This is art? I don’t get it,” while I try to explain that this is not a traditional painting-on-the-wall gallery, it’s art you experience. I don’t think I do a very good job of convincing him.
We move on to Turrell’s other 2 works, which use light and color to play with the viewer’s expectations. The works on the other floors are provocative, insightful, bizarre, imaginative, and sometimes all of the above. When we’ve seen everything, we take the elevator down to the gift shop, where I want to get some postcards. We start a conversation with the two staff members there about the Turrell pieces. When one of them learns we haven’t seen some of the permanent exhibits because the floors are closed, he says, “I’ll take you up; you’ve got to see these works.”
What a pleasure the next hour is – we are given a personal guided tour by Jason, who is the director of external affairs for the Mattress Factory. He shows us the magical mirrored polka-dot and light room by Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama, and the enchanting room with undulating floor and multiple light visual works best seen while flat on one’s back on the floor. (Unfortunately, I can’t remember the artist’s name.) Jason takes us through the upper-level administrative offices to a terrace for a view of Pittsburgh, and to the “poetry house” a few doors away, telling us the story of the Chinese artist and poet, Huang Xiang (pronounced Wan-John) who lives in the house and painted poems in beautiful calligraphy on every wall of the home. Now a lecturer at the Mattress Factory, Huang Xiang fled China as a political refugee and lives in Pittsburgh through the City of Asylum/Pittsburgh.
Our visit to the Mattress Factory is unforgettable not only because of the artwork, but especially because of the personal touch we’ve experienced. Jason is a perfect representative for the gallery – charming, outgoing and eager to show us what makes the Mattress Factory exceptional. And to top it off, when we return to the gift shop – where I still want to get my postcards – he tells us to pick out t-shirts. “If you’ll wear them, they’re on us,” he says. Absolutely we’ll wear them –with pride. And we’ll spread the word about this unique gallery too.
From the Msttress Factory, we head to the Andy Warhol Museum. It’s seven floors of Warhol’s pop culture pieces – Marilyn Monroe, Natalie Wood, Elizabeth Taylor, Elvis, James Dean – every icon of 50s, 60s, and 70s culture was memorialized in his imitable fashion. We spend several hours touring the museum, learning that not only was he a celebrity worshiper, he was a compulsive organizer and collector of all sorts of things, compiling his memorabilia into dated files which he put into boxes he called “time capsules.” Warhol had hundreds of these time capsules which included letters, photos, sketches and other bits and pieces representing a period of months or years. Several of the time capsules are on display in the museum, providing a fascinating glimpse into his life, the era in which he lived, and what was important to him.
We spend Wednesday downtown, visiting the Mattress Factory, an installation art gallery in the North Shore section of Pittsburgh, and the Andy Warhol Museum. We drive through narrow alleys and through seedy neighborhoods and finally arrive at the Mattress Factory – which really is in an old Stearns and Foster factory. The old brick building is unprepossessing, and when we walk in to the “lobby” I can read the look on Steve’s face: “Let’s get out of here.” The first floor entry is furnished with what appears to be second- or third-hand used furniture; the “receptionist” sits at a desk (or maybe it’s a folding table) piled with papers. In one corner is a huge pile of discarded beige business telephones. I’m pretty certain it’s designed to be an art display; I’m pretty certain Steve thinks they haven’t gotten around to putting them in the trash bin.
The receptionist tells us there are 5 floors, 2 of which are closed currently, and describes the works and artists that are viewable. She says admission is half-price on Thursdays, not free as stated in one of the brochures we read. Steve mutters, “I’ll just stay here and read the newspaper; I don’t want to see this.” I persuade him to come with me, which he does reluctantly. We take the elevator to the third floor where there are three installations by James Turrell, an artist who works with light. The first requires walking into a pitch black room and up a ramp in total darkness. At the top of the ramp there’s a small platform. We stand in the dark, hearing, sensing and seeing what complete blackness, a total absence of light, is like. Steve is grumbling, “This is art? I don’t get it,” while I try to explain that this is not a traditional painting-on-the-wall gallery, it’s art you experience. I don’t think I do a very good job of convincing him.
We move on to Turrell’s other 2 works, which use light and color to play with the viewer’s expectations. The works on the other floors are provocative, insightful, bizarre, imaginative, and sometimes all of the above. When we’ve seen everything, we take the elevator down to the gift shop, where I want to get some postcards. We start a conversation with the two staff members there about the Turrell pieces. When one of them learns we haven’t seen some of the permanent exhibits because the floors are closed, he says, “I’ll take you up; you’ve got to see these works.”
What a pleasure the next hour is – we are given a personal guided tour by Jason, who is the director of external affairs for the Mattress Factory. He shows us the magical mirrored polka-dot and light room by Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama, and the enchanting room with undulating floor and multiple light visual works best seen while flat on one’s back on the floor. (Unfortunately, I can’t remember the artist’s name.) Jason takes us through the upper-level administrative offices to a terrace for a view of Pittsburgh, and to the “poetry house” a few doors away, telling us the story of the Chinese artist and poet, Huang Xiang (pronounced Wan-John) who lives in the house and painted poems in beautiful calligraphy on every wall of the home. Now a lecturer at the Mattress Factory, Huang Xiang fled China as a political refugee and lives in Pittsburgh through the City of Asylum/Pittsburgh.
Our visit to the Mattress Factory is unforgettable not only because of the artwork, but especially because of the personal touch we’ve experienced. Jason is a perfect representative for the gallery – charming, outgoing and eager to show us what makes the Mattress Factory exceptional. And to top it off, when we return to the gift shop – where I still want to get my postcards – he tells us to pick out t-shirts. “If you’ll wear them, they’re on us,” he says. Absolutely we’ll wear them –with pride. And we’ll spread the word about this unique gallery too.
From the Msttress Factory, we head to the Andy Warhol Museum. It’s seven floors of Warhol’s pop culture pieces – Marilyn Monroe, Natalie Wood, Elizabeth Taylor, Elvis, James Dean – every icon of 50s, 60s, and 70s culture was memorialized in his imitable fashion. We spend several hours touring the museum, learning that not only was he a celebrity worshiper, he was a compulsive organizer and collector of all sorts of things, compiling his memorabilia into dated files which he put into boxes he called “time capsules.” Warhol had hundreds of these time capsules which included letters, photos, sketches and other bits and pieces representing a period of months or years. Several of the time capsules are on display in the museum, providing a fascinating glimpse into his life, the era in which he lived, and what was important to him.
posted by Anne-Marie | 11:47 AM
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