Glenstone

Nature and architecture housing art

Back in August, I visited the Glenstone Museum with my friend K. The Glenstone Museum is a private entity, funded almost exclusively through a single family's fortune. This place is a result of a single compelling vision, clearly not the result of a committee. They have space-limited tickets (even before Covid); tickets are free but are hard to get, going fast like Hamilton tickets when a new bunch are released. I had set an alarm for the first of August at 10 am, and actually went on-line within minutes of the reminder. I was expecting the newest batch of October spaces, but to my surprise they had some near-term August tickets also available. I snagged two for later that same week, because why not?

Glenstone is clear on having a three-point vision: Art, Architecture, and Nature. Their art is post-WW2, their architecture is modern and green, and their nature is meant to enhance the previous two and reflect the land's regional ecosystems. It's on former farmland west of DC (all land near DC is former farmland, unless it's current farmland). Every aspect of the site is tightly controlled, down to the uniforms the on-site workers wear. They are grey, meant to be distinctive but blend with the modern architecture and not detract from the art. (The grey uniforms frankly looked like socialist worker costumes to me.) I understand most of the folks working there are hired for their interest in, and further trained in, the art.

Engaging directly with outdoor art

The art includes a permanent collection and visiting exhibitions. There are two indoor spaces, a conventional gallery and an amazing mostly underground space with surface pavilions and light wells for natural light. There are also giant outdoor pieces, which is part of the compelling vision. There is a new building under construction, to display a single piece of art. Imagine that, what it takes to do that! Money and ego, in huge amounts, I would think. There are trails, winding along meadows and down to a stream with wooded edges. There is a sound-art installation, which we heard from a distance but missed the full experience due to time limitations - reason alone to go back. 

Partly what had sparked me to visit was an article about a visiting exhibition, a retrospective on the African American artist Faith Ringgold. Amazing and breathtaking, to follow the decades of her evolution to the current day. The below-ground exhibits were part of the permanent collection, interesting and intriguing modern art displayed in a very conscious way to make connections and contrasts. No photography indoors is allowed, which then drove me in the direction intended: engaging with the art directly. I was entranced with an installation that was an entire room, with running water from multiple sinks, along walls evoking a forest, and stacks of newspapers making piles everywhere. What was it about? No clue in any notes, we were left on our own to experience it for ourselves

The trails only cover a mile or two, not a serious hiking experience. But to the delight of many visitors, including me, a large wild turkey family crossed the path in front of us, from one part of the tall meadow to another.

I was taken aback to find, down by the shady stream, a vast expanse of a very very nasty invasive weed, Japanese stiltgrass, Microstegium vimineum.  It's expecially egregious to have it growing on the banks of a stream, where the seeds are going to wash downstream and spread further than by air alone. Once seen in this beautiful place, it couldn't be unseen. To me it was like an artwork that had been defaced by vandals, detracting significantly from the experience. (I provided this feedback to the museum, hoping they had a plan to manage this. I am aware the only way to manage it is very labor-intensive, but it really has to be done.)

Kind of a Shrek vibe, no?

One of the most famous pieces at Glenstone is Jeff Koons' Split Rocker, a huge sculpture with interior plumbing that feeds an annual display of colorful living plants. I had seen photos, and it was part of my impetus to visit. Because it's living, it is different every year. One of the guides told us that due to this year's weather, it was the best it had been in years. It was magnificent, and I lingered to both take pictures and study how it was put together, what plants were used, what glimpses of the plumbing and works I could get.

Imagine my delight when, going through the old travel photos of my mother, I came on this! While info in my mother's scrapbook is sketchy, from what I can tell the photo is from the year 2000. An internet search suggests the sculpture was in Avignon, France that year., the year it was created. How cool is it to have this!