Temporary Tourist

Editor’s Note: This is the sixth in a summer-long series in which Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather, a Berkshire County native, explores the county as a tourist would (no special media accommodations) and visits places she has never been. Read about all of her visits at blogtheberkshires.com.

BECKET — The late afternoon sun had dipped behind the trees, bathing the Berkshire hills beyond Jacob’s Pillow’s Inside/Out stage in a soft glow.
The wooden benches provided for seating were nearly full shortly before the recent 6:30 performance. Others chose to bring chairs or blankets. It was a glorious setting for a glorious adventure in dance.
My friend Sharon had agreed to accompany me to this free performance. The evening started with the easy trip up Route 20 east out of Lee. I could tell on the journey that Sharon, who knows me and my geographic/spatial/map reading difficulties well, had some trepidation about my ability to find the place in the wilds of Becket. (Never mind that I had successfully navigated us both to our favorite venue, The Dream Away Lodge, in even wilder parts of Becket, previously.)
I was happy to offer to Sharon that one can get to the Pillow with — gasp — no map needed. As we headed up the mountain, soon enough we started to see the vertical banners hanging above, guiding our way. Shortly thereafter, we came up the Pillow’s wonderful, huge, bright yellow signs, which heralded our arrival at George Carter Road to our left. We had made it, without getting lost. Yea me!

I think it is important to note here that I had actually been to the Pillow a short five days earlier, when I had taken the kids to Community Day, intending to base my column on that experience. However, it was so brutally hot that we didn’t last long enough to see any actual dancing, and thus I had to make the second trip in order to have a full experience of the Pillow. Sharon knew this, but still did not have full confidence in my ability to find the place again, and rightfully so. I have been known to get lost in my house at night on the way to the bathroom.
We found parking immediately, fairly close to the entrance, and then started to make our way across the grounds. Another feature I love about the Pillow is the very clear, numerous signposts that point your way to any part of the facility, which is quite expansive. The signs made me smile, because they are the same type of signpost that was featured in my all-time favorite TV show, “M*A*S*H.” Remember how it pointed out the direction and distances to the homes of the residents of the 4077th, like Toledo, Ohio, over 6,000 miles away, home to Corp. Maxwell Klinger? But I digress …
The historic property, which bears the same name as the farm founded there by the Carter family in 1790 and was designated a National Historic Landmark in 2003, was purchased in 1930 by dance pioneer Ted Shawn and his wife, Ruth St. Denis. It is rumored that the property was also a stop along the Underground Railroad. On July 9, 1942, the very first theater in the United States created specifically for dance, the Ted Shawn Theatre, opened its doors.
The Inside/Out series, created under the tenure of Liz Thompson (1980-89), is held on the Marcia & Seymour Simon Performance Space. The free performances are held Wednesday through Saturday at 6:30 p.m. during the festival season. Lydia Johnson Dance was performing the night of our visit.
The company performed two different sets of pieces over a total of 40 minutes. The first set saw the women dancers in simple short shifts, with the men in white T-shirts and khaki pants. In the second series, all the dancers were clothed in short black shorts and sleeveless tops in shades of blue from royal to periwinkle. Sharon and I agreed we liked the women best in the ultra-feminine attire of the first set, but the shorts allowed us to see the incredible muscles of all the dancers more clearly in the second set.
The company uses a combination of classical ballet as well as modern dance; the lifts were beautiful to behold and the feeling overall was very sensual and intimate. I thought the 40 minutes passed far too quickly and was sad to see it over. We both said we were going to tell friends and family about this incredible opportunity to see such free performances.
But now we were at a loss. It was far too early to head to our second destination of the night, so how would we while away the time? We decided to head to the Coffee Bar; having been out late the previous night, we were already starting the evening a little bit wiped.
But we were distracted on the way to our coffee. Walking past the Pillow Store and the Tea Garden, we saw a group of people gathered in a doorway. Naturally, I had to know what they were looking at.
We found ourselves peering into the Bakalar Studio, where a rehearsal (of what I don’t know) was under way. Sharon and I stood with mouths agape as the dancers practiced their movements across the floor, with the clearly defined muscles in their legs rippling as they leapt in their grand jete and landed lightly on the floor’s surface. I felt like my now-9-year-old when she was but a preschooler, peeking in the door of one of the studios at Terpsichore on North Street in Pittsfield, spying on the “big girls” in their pointe class before heading into her pre-ballet session. I think I was just as enthralled this night as she was on those long-ago Saturday mornings.
We finally headed for our coffee, drinking it as we walked around the grounds past the Pillow Pub, the Doris Duke Studio Theatre and the Ted Shawn Theatre. It was a beautiful evening — the meticulously landscaped grounds, the surrounding trees with their chirping birds and the approaching twilight all contributed to a feeling of peacefulness. It was a sublime way to kick off a weekend evening with a good friend after a busy work week
The grace of the dancers and the beauty of the Pillow property contribute to an atmosphere unlike that of any other venue I have visited in the Berkshires. And as for being in the “wilds of Becket”? Sharon was amazed to find that it is, in fact, only a short 10 or 15 minutes from Lee. And if I can find it, then you should make it a point to find it, too. The adventure is worth it.

Jacob’s Pillow is located at 358 George Carter Road in Becket, just off of Route 20. The festival season runs from June 14-Aug. 24. Each week during the season, the free Inside/Out performances are held Wednesday through Saturday at 6:30. There are numerous other free events as well, including Pillow Talks and pre-show and post-show talks. Each year the Pillow also holds a Community Day with free events and giveaways, which this year was held on July 20. Info: jacobspillow.org or 413-243-9919.

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I can't tell you the number of times I have driven right past the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art in North Adams on the way to Ericka's house. Each time, I (or my oldest daughter) would say, "Man, we've got to get there!"
Thus, it was a logical choice for my next column, especially with the added lure of the annual Bang On A Can music festival. Ericka and her two kids were going to meet us there, but we arrived first. (Did you know that at your local library you can check out free passes to attractions, just like you would check out a book? No kidding. It's one of the best-kept secrets ever!)

That gave us time to check out the Tall Gallery, where the 1:30 recital was going to take place. There was a tree projected on the wall. It swayed, as if in a breeze, and changed colors as if with the seasons - from green with pink blossoms to all green to orange to mostly bare. "It's so, so pretty. Wow," said Gwen, my 6-year-old. She was content to watch that for a minute, but in a big hurry to get to Kidspace, which I had already told her about. She wasn't thrilled about sitting on the floor at the other end of the gallery to listen to the music.
That changed, though, once Ericka and the kids arrived and the music started. The first piece, with Andy Akiho on the steel drum, Andrea Springer on the violin and Andrew Kozar on the trumpet, was exactly what I had envisioned the music would be like. The steel drum has such a beautiful, uplifting sound. I can't imagine a dirge being played on one of those.
The next piece was by Jeffrey Gauett, who sang an opera selection from a balcony above us. "The lyrics are kind of weird," said 9-year-old Caroline with a wrinkled nose. Her confusion abated when I explained he was singing in Italian. No, wait, singing in German. Oops! Now it's English. When he finally got to the English version and we could understand what he was saying, the words drew giggles out of our 6-year-olds, and many of the adults in the crowd, too.
The third piece was MoCA at its best. Sean Conway appeared, holding a trumpet. But rather than playing it, he shook it, twirled it and thumped it while making a sort of spitting noise. We watched, with mouths hanging open. We waited for him to play. He didn't. Caroline leaned over to me: "Maybe it's a comedy and he's trying to get it to work." Interesting, to say the least.
But it was the last piece that most enthralled me. Rose Bellini played cello, while Philippa Thompson played saw. Yes, saw. Caroline of course asked why the woman was holding a saw. I explained that she was going to use it as an instrument. That brought a smile, raised eyebrows and a nose wrinkled in disbelief.
The music was compelling - ethereal and alien sounding. How on earth could she know where to place the bow on the saw to produce the exact tone she needed? Fascinating. And at the conclusion, the inevitable statement: "I want to play the saw," Caroline said.
The four pieces were just enough to hold the kids' attention but not so long that they got bored. Now it was time to decide where to go next, so I pulled out the map. Uh, oh. This map made even less sense to me than the map I had tried to use at Williams College Museum of Art. If you read my column about that visit, you know that I have a serious spatial difficulty, particularly with things depicted graphically. This does not extend to road maps, however; they appeal to my concrete sequential nature.
When I saw what I was supposed to use to navigate myself through the museum, a light clicked on. People attracted to museums are visual people. (I am for sure a word, not a picture, person.) That's why these seemingly incomprehensible pictures made sense to the majority of the population! It all became clear.
I put the map away. It was rocket science as far as I was concerned. However, Isaiah, Ericka's 6-year-old, knew just where to take us. Good thing! We were off to explore The Miss Rockaway Armada, nirvana for kids. The space has been transformed in to a type of tree house, sans the tree, with trap doors and numerous doodads everywhere you look. The kids would have happily stayed there all day.
Caroline was most fascinated by the manual typewriters (apple
doesn't fall far from the tree there, does it?). Visitors take small piece of supplied paper and write profound statements or wishes and then post them. An example: "dear big mr. moster (sic) i come in peace. From maddy/hippo." That person must have had trouble figuring out where the shift key was, but I'm glad she was reassuring the monsters. And another: "I wish I could click my fingers and be anywhere I wanted to be. But here's pretty good for the time being."
And what did Caroline type? "hi. i like art. but i don't like working hard for it. c.e.f." How funny is it that Miss Nonvisual-has spatial-difficulties Writer Person would want to spend all day in that room reading every word left behind rather than looking at other stuff?
But we did drag ourselves away, finally, to Kidspace, where we saw Devorah Sperber's "Interpretations" exhibit. Sperber took famous works of art - "Mona Lisa" for example - broke them down into pixels of color, and then reproduced them with colored spools of thread. When you view the spools through special optical devices, the works become clear. I can't even imagine, with my spatial disability, how she could have figured that out. Astonishing. The kids had the chance to make some art of their own, too.
Ericka wanted us to see "Eastern Standard: Western Artists in China," but we both agreed that was something we would have to come back kidless for. The kids were antsy to return to Miss Rockaway and were not in a mood to dither with the moms as they gawked at stuff.
However, they were impressed when we opened the doors into the darkness that is Jenny Holzer's "Projections" - a massive space filled with even more massive bean bags in total blackness, except for the gigantic scrolling words that start at the far end and roll toward you on the ceiling, walls and floor. It is most impressive from just inside the door. "This is awesome," Caroline breathed as we stepped inside.
After leaving there, we stumbled into a room with terrariums that you could put your head inside - again, perfectly MoCA - and also saw the prototype for the tree turbine that stands in a courtyard. (I asked - yes, it does work, and does produce electricity. It was unknown if it would actually work when it was installed back in the spring.)
It was decided we would end the day back at Miss Rockaway with her trap doors and typewriter. It was not easy ultimately pulling the kids out of there.
Walking out, I told Ericka I felt like I had only seen a fifth of what was there, but that what we had seen had certainly suited a trip with kids. We were there for about three hours, had walked thousands of miles (or at least it felt that way), had heard some cool music and had given the kids the chance to climb and squeal and be otherwise kids. A successful trip to be sure.
And as a P.S., our day wasn't done yet. We continued on to Pedrin's for their famous onion rings (where I have been before) and from there to the Adams Town Hall lawn, where I haven't been and where we watched the free Friday night movie ("Enchanted" this week; check out The Advocate's calendar of events at advocateweekly. com for future listings). Because it was Community Day, South Adams Savings Bank supplied free hot dogs, snow cones, fried dough, popcorn, soda and water. The movie was great, the sound wonderful and the massive number of kids, for the most part, very well-behaved. We learned that there will be a special Saturday night movie on July 26, when Park Street will be closed off for a car show and "Grease" will be shown on the lawn. A pact was made not to miss that one!

Mass MoCA is open through Sept. 2 from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Sundays through Fridays. Hours Saturdays through Aug. 23 are 10 a.m. to 7 p.m.; after Aug. 23, it will close at 6 through Sept. 2. Hours Sept. 2 though June 2009 are 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.; closed Tuesdays. Cost: $12.50/adults, $9/students, $5/children 6-16, free/children 5 and under and members. Bang On A Can music festival runs through July 26. Most performances are included with admission; two separate ticketed events will be held Saturday, July 19, and Saturday. July 26. Info: massmoca.org or 413-662-2111.

Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather can be reached at jfairweather@
advocateweekly.com.

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WILLIAMSTOWN — As a former high school social studies teacher, I seem to invariably be drawn to places that “feed my history need.” That need is what drew me recently to Williams College Museum of Art’s “Manifestos: American Dreams and Their Founding Documents” exhibit.
Having never been to WCMA before, the first challenge was parking. The fates were on my side the day of my late-afternoon visit, because I was able to find a spot right on the circular drive by the building. There aren’t many spots there, though; a sign proclaimed there was additional parking across the street.
I grabbed a brochure and a white piece of paper that listed the exhibits and their accompanying exhibit halls and floors on the way in, but was momentarily stumped by the extremely discreet signage. Turning the paper over, I discovered a map on the back.
However, what you have to know about me is that I have something I have always jokingly referred to as a “geographic visual spatial disability.” For all I know, it could be a real thing. What this means to me is that with the exception of road maps, I have trouble figuring out schematics, particularly assembly instructions for kids’ toys.
I couldn’t make heads or tails out of the map of the galleries. What I did ascertain, from the front (which was in list form — phew!) was that the gallery I was looking for was upstairs.

Up I went, and then tried the map again. Baffled. OK, so I decided I’d just walk into the nearest gallery, figure out what was in there, and then try and use that to orient myself. Using this method, I stumbled into, lo and behold, the right gallery (seeing as how it is called the Large Prendergast Gallery, I think my chances were pretty good of finding it, but then again, I’ve been called “Wrong Way Conway” when I couldn’t figure out a sea of construction cones placed by old men with too much time on their hands at a small town recycling center).
The exhibit is a mix of American art as well as astounding documents relating to the founding of our country. I wasn’t familiar with many of the artists, but perused the hangings briefly. What I was floored by, though, was the breadth of the documents on view.
Some of the documents, among others, included are one of the 26 known copies of the first printing of the Declaration of Independence, which preceded by a full month the ceremonial signed copy; a House of Representatives version of the Bill of Rights, one of only four known to exist, printed in 1789; the Definitive Treaty of Peace and Friendship ending the Revolutionary War signed in Paris on Sept. 3, 1783; the Constitution, a committee of style draft, one of only 14 surviving copies from an original 60 from the Constitutional Convention of 1787, which includes “Objections to This Constitution of Government” on the reverse by George Mason, a senior member of the Virginia delegation to the convention; and the British reply to the Declaration of Independence written by King George III’s official representatives in North America, Viscount Admr. Richard Howe and Gen. William Howe, one of only six copies known to survive.
Amazing. Incredible. Mind-boggling. My heart actually pounded (what a history geek I am) to think that these documents are available, free to anyone who wants to take the time to visit, right in Williamstown. Normally housed in the college’s Chapin Library, they are now at WCMA while the library undergoes renovations. And I had no idea.
I was drawn from there into the Small Prendergast Gallery, which also had some fascinating items, from World War I recruitment posters to a photo by Matthew Brady of Gen. Winfield Scott Hancock, taken circa 1865. Brady was the famous Civil War photographer I had taught my U.S. history students about, and here was one of his actual photographs. Wow. Perhaps the most intriguing item there, though, was a video, made in 1894 (yes, that’s the right date) by Edison Manufacturing Co. of a strong man posing.
From there, I spied what I learned was a polychromed wood Egyptian head, circa 954-525 B.C., in another gallery. I whipped through the Class of 1935 gallery, without pausing, to enter the small Stoddard Gallery and its “Specimens of a Higher Art Ancient Art from the Collection.” Of course that lured me — I also taught ancient and medieval history to freshmen, one of my favorite subjects. The collection there is very small, but the pieces, like the massive Assyrian reliefs, were incredible to behold.
My time was running short, so I made a quick zip around to the other side of the upstairs, where I stumbled upon what is the current featured exhibit — “Julie Mehretu: City Sitings” in the Class of 1954 Gallery. The 11 pieces are massive. According to the WCMA brochure, Mehretu “employs a dynamic visual vocabulary that combines maps, urban grids, and architectural renderings to articulate complex social and geopolitical structures.”
I am firmly in the realist camp when it comes to my taste in art, yet I could have parked myself on one of the benches in that vast space and looked at just one of the pieces for hours. They were fascinating in color and design and really urged me to sit and view each one for an extended time.
Because I had only a limited amount of time, I had to leave before I had the chance to visit the museum shop (a good thing for my pocketbook) or see the three exhibits on the ground floor (a bad thing for my “feeding my history need”). Those include a Sol LeWitt exhibit, the “Nick Zammuto: Laser Show Six Perspectives on a Chaotic Resonator,” and, sadly for me, “Masterpieces Ancient to Modern.” There’s that “ancient” word again.
It is astounding to remember that WCMA is, after all, a college museum with an institution like the Clark Art Institute right down the road, yet it filled my history need admirably, even if I had to leave without seeing that last ancient exhibit. But isn’t it always better to leave the table a little bit hungry? That, in itself, ensures for me a not-too-distant return.

The Williams College Museum of Art, free and open to the public, is open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday and from 1-5 p.m. on Sunday. It is located at 15 Lawrence Hall Drive on the Williams College campus. Info: 413-597-2429 or wcma.org.

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