One of the most valued things in a city is space, and in New York City, to have it is to have one of our most precious commodities. Indoors, when arranging things in an office, retail store, or home, we often speak of taking up or using valuable real estate. We mean it literally. In many cases we jockey and maneuver things to gain inches. Parking, laundromats, parks, retail shops, sports, recreation, the arts, universities – everything here has a crucial space component. The success or failure of most small enterprises is largely a function of overhead costs, with space rental as the biggest element. When leaving the city, one of the most pleasant things is the relative ease of so many of life’s activities and chores, with space as a primary reason.

So for me, and I am sure many others, one of the most striking things when entering the Sackler Wing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art is the enormous amount of open space indoors. At the risk of sounding like a rube, this amount of space almost feels like an indulgence, a luxury, a sin against those of us who parse our world and value every parcel.

At some level, the use of personal space in New York City must be justified, or one risks being grouped with our porcine friends. With public space, one must answer to harsh critics, including a body of individuals trained in architecture, design, and urban planning. The larger the space, the greater the justification and good design needed. With an enormous place like this, you had better have a great reason and design for so much space – something, perhaps, in the order of an Egyptian Temple, which is just what we have.

So there is an inner sense of relief when your eye sees and mind realizes what has been done here: the Temple of Dendur has been moved stone by stone from Egypt to the USA and reassembled in this room built exclusively for it. Unquestionably a worthy candidate for its own wing in the Metropolitan Museum of Art at Fifth Avenue and Central Park. A reflecting pool in front of the temple and a sloping wall behind it represent the Nile and the cliffs of the original location. The stippled glass on the ceiling and the north wall diffuse the light and mimic the lighting conditions in Nubia.

The temple had to be removed from its location in Egypt; it otherwise would have been submerged by the rising waters of the Nile behind the new High Aswan Dam. The government of Egypt offered the temple to the United States in 1965 in recognition of the aid America had provided toward saving a number of Nubian temples doomed to be permanently flooded by the construction of the High Dam. A competition for its location included the Smithsonian in Washington, DC and Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. In 1967, the temple was awarded to the Met. More than 800 tons of stone were moved and shipped in over 600 crates. The temple was installed in the Sackler Wing in 1978. You can read more about the temple here.

From the Museum website:

“On the outer walls–between earth and sky–are carved scenes of the king making offerings to deities … This king was actually Emperor Augustus of Rome, who, as recent master of Egypt, wisely had himself depicted in the traditional regalia of the pharaoh. Augustus had many temples erected in Egyptian style, honoring Egyptian deities. This small temple, built about 15 B.C., honored the goddess Isis and, beside her, two deified sons of a local Nubian chieftain, Pedesi and Pihor.”

The temple is a majestic sight indoors or out at any time. It is a popular photography subject, particularly at night, when it is illuminated and can be viewed from Central Park (where the museum and Sackler wing sit).

Sometimes the human spirit just needs a little extravagance, not defined in practical terms. All the better when done in an appropriate way, as befits the Temple of Dendur. Sometimes we need a parade, and sometimes we need some space…

Related Post: Gratuitous in Nature

This is the image that greets me many days on my way to and from work when I pass by the window of Eli Klein Fine Art at 462 West Broadway in SoHo. For those who are unfamiliar, West Broadway is the prime artery through the center of SoHo, where many of the area’s galleries were located during the neighborhood’s renaissance. Most have closed owing to escalating rents, but a few remain.

I am not a student, connoisseur, or critic of art, so I leave assessment of this sculpture to others. However, this does illustrate one of the dilemmas I have wrestled with over the decades I have lived in this city: the apparent contradiction in what constitutes good and bad art.
My experience is that most in the art world are very reluctant to say that there is any objective standard for art. Criteria such as personal appeal are cited as valid ways of judging art. Yet, in practice, most artists and critics are quick to make a qualitative judgement about any art and whether it is good or bad. Inherent in that judgement is the implication that this is an educated opinion, implying some standards. To the unschooled in art, one is left with the feeling that there are standards but that they are either difficult to define or perhaps only known to the critics’ secret society. A feeling of art snobbery lingers in the air.

I am reminded of what is considered to be one of the most famous phrases in the history of the Supreme Court. In 1964, a United States Supreme Court decision, Jacobellis v. Ohio, involved whether the state of Ohio could, in light of the First Amendment, ban the showing of a French film called The Lovers (Les Amants) which the state had deemed obscene. Very disparate opinions were given by the justices at the time, but the most well-known was that of Justice Potter Stewart, who said that the Constitution protected all obscenity except “hard-core pornography.” He went on to say that he could not define it but “I know it when I see it.” Perhaps this is the secret for the trained critic or artist: they know good or bad art it when they see it…

About the Gallery and sculpture: “Eli Klein Fine Art is committed to presenting important exhibitions of new Chinese art.” Their website is here.

One of the most common questions I am asked by visitors is how often I partake of the city’s cultural institutions – theater, music venues, and museums. Sadly, the answer is not much or not enough. When I do so, the feeling is always the same: I should do more of this.
It’s a shame, because this city is like treasure island. And unlike the buried treasures of fable and folklore, we have real maps with real treasures clearly marked. The process of discovery is exciting and rewarding. In the case of the New York Times Capsule, we actually have a veritable treasure, perhaps not actually buried but at least entombed with hidden contents, providing all the elements necessary to evoke the child within us.

This Times Capsule is located at the Museum of Natural History outside the Weston Pavilion entrance on Columbus Avenue and 79th Street. It was installed in 2001. The design was the result of an international competition with a simple set of guidelines: devise a means of preserving information until A.D. 3000 that takes the concept of a time capsule in new directions. In the end, almost 50 designers, architects, and engineers from 15 countries submitted entries that ranged from the practical to the whimsical. A jury of New York Times editors and critics made the final selection. See some of the notable entries here.

The winning design was that of internationally renowned architect, sculptor, and engineer Santiago Calatrava. The panel of judges was comprised of editors and writers at The New York Times Magazine. The Calatrava design is derived from a series of sculptures that explores the formal properties of folded spherical frames: the capsule can be sliced through horizontally, forming two halves, and then quartered. The four top segments are hinged to the bottom four, allowing them to open and close. The cavities are hollow, and the eight compartments together contain about 50 cubic feet of storage space filled with Nanogel to protect the contents placed inside. The stainless steel capsule was constructed at A.R.T. Design in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, using the “lost-wax” process.

The choice of contents is, of course, quite fascinating. Items from Fountain, Colorado (the archetypal suburban American town), hair samples of well-known individuals, various magazines, books, catalogs, newspapers, articles of personal identification, etc. See the full list of contents here.

I would love to be at the opening ceremony, January 1, 3000. That will be quite a treasure chest…

Related Posting: Tired of Life?