A Trip to the Boston Institute of Contemporary Art

And so another school vacation comes to a close. How was yours? Were your plans cancelled by a giant cloud of volcanic ash? Did it rain the entire time at your tropical destination? Did your airline unexpectedly move your flight up an hour, resulting in your driving 1,500 miles to get home?

If you answered “no” to any of these questions then perhaps you fared better on your vacation than some of my friends. One of the benefits to staying local (other than some mighty fine weather) is that the cosmic gremlins are unable to put much of a monkey wrench in your meticulously planned vacation.

My sons and I spent a few days with family in New Jersey (luckily, there was no previously dormant volcano spewing ash out of the Hudson River, otherwise we might never have made it over the Tappan Zee Bridge). Upon returning home, I pondered what other activities we might find to fill the remaining vacation days (helping me maintain a grip on my sanity).

I finally settled on the one place I had been meaning to take the children for months: The Institute of Contemporary Art. I always meant to take them on a Thursday night (admission is free, thanks to Target), but somehow homework, soccer and Tae Kwon Do practice always took priority. Lucky for me, our local library now has a pass available, so my admission was $5 (instead of $15) and my sons were free (my favorite discount).

This unique museum sits right on Boston Harbor, next to Anthony’s Pier 4 on Northern Ave. The building’s architecture reflects the unusual artwork within. My kids were unnerved by the giant glass elevator (you could park a car in it) that allows you to see all the way down to the lobby as you zoom up to the galleries on the fourth floor. My children started their exploration with a visit to the Poss Family Mediateque (a media center with multiple computers in rows that step down, stadium style, towards a wall of glass that looks out over the harbor). This room, which looked like the bridge of some futuristic space ship, allowed each child to view any number of animated short films on their own computer (complete with headphones). The unanimous favorite was a film entitled “Never Live Above a Psychic”, in which a man is tormented by the children of the Psychic who lives downstairs.

“Art in the Making” was another exhibit which captivated my kids. Artists used ordinary materials like sugar cubes, oil, pins and scotch tape to create their pieces. An enormous cube was made entirely of silver straight pins. A museum employee explained that the artist had poured thousands of pins into a square mold, and then removed the sides. The pins held their cube shape entirely by friction and weight, with no glue or epoxy to keep it together. Of course my first question was “How do you move it?” She went on to explain that when the exhibit was over, the cube would be dismantled.

Another room held what looked to be a mist of fine clouds floating upon the floor. On closer inspection, we discovered that the mist was made from scotch tape. One artist had a whole exhibit dedicated to water, complete with sculptured glass, photographs and an ant farm (with real, live ants. Would that be considered performance art?)

My favorite moment of the day was when my children discovered a film entitled “Sugar and Oil #2”. The film shows a block made entirely of sugar cubes. The artist then pours crude oil over the cubes, and as the oil seeps into the sugar, the block crumbles and dissolves. When my twelve-year-old said, “Oh I get it. The sugar is like the purity of mankind and the oil is what happens when we get corrupted by greed,” I nearly fell over.

One of the last exhibits we visited was a collection of art by a Mexican tattoo artist who goes by the name Dr. Lakra. Rather than tattooing skin, the artist uses his skills to tattoo vintage printed materials, found objects and even baby dolls. Some of the images were funny, some were scary and some were a little disturbing (they involved the human anatomy. Use your imagination). Though it didn’t have the same cache as the block of pins or the scotch tape clouds, my children did appreciate the artist’s talent.

As we left the museum, one of my kids blurted, “They should call this the IACA: The Institute of Awesome Contemporary Art.” Though I was happy to kill a few hours over vacation week, I was thrilled to reinforce the lesson that everyone’s concept of art is different. Art can be a Monet painting, a Rodin sculpture or even a giant block of pins. For more information, visit www.icaboston.org/

And don’t say I didn’t warn you about Dr. Lakra.