A large part of making art, for me, comes from seeing and experiencing art– which was a lot easier to do before kids and busy schedules. When we had the time and money to travel often, visiting new cities was the perfect excuse to check out a museum or two (or three). It’s quite embarrassing to admit that I can barely take the time to visit the art my own city has to offer, or that it took me nearly six years after the completion of the “new” ICA to actually go and experience it.
When the building was under construction I was pregnant with my daughter, anxious for both arrivals. I imagined quietly wandering through the galleries, a sleeping infant resting peacefully in a sling at my chest– but then she was born and cried non-stop for no less than three months– my vision, and my sleep pattern, shattered. After that, I had an on-the-go toddler and still so exhausted, I couldn’t even imagine bringing her to a museum or gallery. Not only did I not want to be that parent, but it just wouldn’t be the same for me, because instead of quietly contemplating the art I’d be chasing her past it, around it, and demanding “don’t touch!” Which is why the only museums I have been to in the past five years have been children’s museums. Okay, that’s not entirely true, I have had the opportunity to visit the Warhol (awesome) and the redesigned MFA (disorienting) over the past twelve months, both of which have inspired me to rekindle my love-affair with art and to stop making excuses for why I’m not experiencing art more.
above ICA Boston photo source