Reading

A Cynic’s Introduction to Glenstone

Previous Story
Article Image

BmoreArt News: Sam Gilliam Lecture Series, Cheyan [...]

Next Story
Article Image

Fantasy Machine VI

It was the first tolerable day after nearly a month of temperatures in the high 90s and soggy humidity that sapped my energy and made even the short walk to the mailbox a misery. This day was mild by comparison, so my friend Paris and I decided to drive the 15 minutes from the condo where he lives with his partner in Bethesda to the Glenstone Museum in Potomac, Maryland. 

The brother of my high school sweetheart, Paris has been a fixture in my life since we were in our early teens. When I left for college in August of 1996, his brother and I broke up, but Paris and I grew closer. We both lived in Baltimore in the early 2000s while he studied painting at MICA and I studied poetry at Hopkins, and when he moved back to Bethesda a few years after graduating, we continued to get together every few months. 

We are both introverts who skew toward misanthropy, and we inspire a level of comfort in each other that can become inertia; we love watching terrible TV and lounging on the couch, jokingly reminiscing about days when we still had ambition and hope.

Together we are the quintessential Gen-Xers, cynical to the core and always ready with a cutting observation or dismissive roll of the eyes, the perfect balance of unease and ennui. As kids, we were alienated and angry, bonding over our shared sense of otherness, seeking solace in our art. As adults, we mostly try to figure out how we got so old, how we ended up so average, how we ever stayed up past 10pm. But Paris loves Glenstone, and his rare enthusiasm coupled with the good weather were enough to motivate us. 

Paris drove us through winding Potomac streets lined with mansions that seemed to have sprouted like ostentatious mushrooms in the years since I’d been in that part of town. The road was edged with lush forest, and I almost didn’t notice the entrance which just seemed like another driveway. Soon after entering the property, though, the magnitude of the museum became apparent. At nearly 300 acres, Glenstone has quite a footprint. We could see the Jeff Koons sculpture, “Split-Rocker,” a 36-foot-tall hobby-horse head fashioned from flowers, looming from our parking space. 

I could already tell that Paris had not exaggerated about how impressive the museum isplus it is totally free for all guests, and even if you can’t get a reservation, there are several alternative ways to gain entry. As we walked to the arrival hall, Paris explained that the museum has an agreement with the bus systemanyone who takes the Ride-On into the property is guaranteed admittance. There are also several groups of people who are always admitted: educators (which is how Paris and I got in), students over age 12 (no one under 12 is permitted in the museum, something Paris told me with absolute glee), active military members, veterans, and museum workers. 

The arrival hall itself is a work of art with high ceilings and pale wood walls. White parasols are available to all guests and the docents all wear gray smocks that reminded me of the canvas uniform I was given at a Korean spa. They also all wore pinshorizontal silver barson their chests. I felt like I was in some utopian fantasy where art and nature rule the day. The weight of my worries lifted as we took the path toward the exhibits.

Charles Ray, Installation view. Photo by Elizabeth Hazen
Glenstone Arrival Hall
The Gallery at Glenstone, designed by Charles Gwathmey (1938−2009) of Gwathmey Siegel & Associates Architects.
Installation view: Charles Ray, Fifth Installation. Photo by Ron Amstutz
“Fountain” is quite simply a white, porcelain urinal resting on its back, the title of the piece a reference to the way urine would splash back at you if you tried to use it.
Elizabeth Hazen

Just a short walk from the entrance, we passed four stainless steel statues by Charles Ray, and I stopped to take pictures of each one, the silver reflecting the bright summer sun and creating a contrast to the vivid green lawn and blue sky.

The Pavilions, which typically house a large part of the collection, are closed for renovations until early 2025, but there was still so much to see.

I was already taken with this strange paradise hidden in the Potomac suburbs, this place that seemed to me like another countryif not another planet. I certainly didn’t feel that I was missing out; truly, I hadn’t felt so inspired in ages. 

The Gallery building was open and housed an exhibit called “Iconoclasts.” Here I saw works by Rauschenberg, Johns, Pollock, Basquiat, Bourgeois, Oldenberg, Giacometti, Serra, Nauman, and  Twombly.

Robert Rauschenberg’s “Gold Standard,” is a seven-foot-tall work fashioned from a Japanese folding screen. The dominant color is, appropriately, a vibrant yellow-gold, and the artist’s signature collaging includes a cardboard box, a necktie, a dangling pair of shoes, and a ceramic dog tied to the screen with a rope and seated on a sled-like contraption. Perhaps it was the size of the piece that dazzled me, or maybe it was its aggressive brightness or the playfulness of the objects. I tried to find the narrative thread, a delightful exercise.

The piece by Jasper Johns, “Flag on an Orange Field II,” struck a particularly poignant chord. The painting is simply an American flag against a fiery orange backdrop, and this image resonated with the sadness we had been feeling over the divisive political climate and our anxiety over the looming election. 

A docent explained that all of these pieces had been in storage, but due to popular demand were placed on display. Paris, who had been to the museum before, but had not seen this exhibit, almost lost it when we saw Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain,” the iconic urinal.

Paris is generally underwhelmed (see: Gen X), but he nearly gushed as he described learning about the seminal piece in art school. “Fountain” is quite simply a white, porcelain urinal resting on its back, the title of the piece a reference to the way urine would splash back at you if you tried to use it. “R. Mutt 1917” is scrawled in black along the left edge like careless graffiti.

There are a few interpretations of the meaning of “R. Mutt”—a play on the german “armut,” which means poverty; “mongrel art” if you read the “R” as French for art; or even a kind of anagram of the title of Duchamp’s last painting, “Tu m.” In any case, Duchamp challenged the definition of art, and this piece, a “readymade,” created a great deal of controversy in the art world.

 

Jean-Michel Basquiat, Frogmen, 1983, acrylic, oil stick, paper, and color copy paper on canvas with metal hinges © The Estate of Jean-Michel Basquiat / ADAGP, Paris / ARS, New York 2018. Photo by Ron Amstutz
Left: Jasper Johns, Flag on an Orange Field II, 1958, encaustic on canvas © 2023 Jasper Johns / Licensed by VAGA at Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY Right: Robert Rauschenberg, Gold Standard, 1964, oil, paper, printed reproductions, clock, cardboard box, metal, fabric, wood, string, shoe and Coca-Cola bottles on gold folding Japanese screen with electric light, rope, and ceramic dog on bicycle seat © Robert Rauschenberg Foundation/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY Courtesy: Glenstone Museum, Potomac, Maryland
Bruce Nauman. Fifteen Pairs of Hands, 1996, white bronze with painted steel base,15 parts, each 52 x 12 x 12 inches (132 x 30 x 30 cm) © 2023 Bruce Nauman / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, Photo: courtesy Sperone Westwater
The Pavilions at Glenstone
The pair of sinks rises from the ground like gravestones or wide-eyed ghosts.
Elizabeth Hazen

There were also works by contemporary artists who were new to me. It is easy to poke fun at conceptual artists, but whenever I am with someone who casually comments, “I could have made that,” I always think to myself, “But you didn’t.” These artists are bold. They have big ideas and take risks to bring them to fruition. Knowing this—and knowing that someone with the means to purchase these works of art had chosen to share them with the world for free—gave me a sense of hope.

One piece by Felix Gonzalez-Torres appeared at first to be nothing extraordinary, but as the docent explained the concept to me, I had to hold back tears. “Perfect Lovers” is simply two wall clocksthe kind I remember from classrooms at school that operate on two AA batteries hung above eye level, the edges touching, set to the exact same time. Inevitably, the two clocks will get out of sync. As a commentary on love and loss, I can’t think of a more perfect example. 

I also learned about one of Paris’s favorite artists, Robert Gober, known for installations of closets, pieces which were created in the 80s in support of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP), when the AIDS epidemic was at its height. The idea of “coming out” is referenced by the minimalist space, and its historical and social import clearly struck a chord with Paris who came of age at a time when the stigma around being gay kept him in the closet until college. 

Gober also has an outdoor installation on display, “Two Partially Buried Sinks,” set up along the path through the woods. The pair of sinks rises from the ground like gravestones or wide-eyed ghosts.

Other highlights located around the wooded path include three cabins, each containing work by Andy Goldsworthy fashioned from clay: a giant sphere, a wall textured with cracks like fractured glass, and a series of circles receding into the wall creating a vortex. There is even a sound installation channeled through hidden speakers that fill a clearing in the woods with sounds ranging from wildlife calls to gunfire to choral singing. 

 

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, “Untitled” (Perfect Lovers), 1987, two clocks © Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Courtesy of The Felix Gonzalez-Torres Foundation. Photo by Ron Amstutz.
Robert Gober, Two Partially Buried Sinks, 1986-1987, cast iron, enamel paint © Robert Gober, courtesy Matthew Marks Gallery

I didn’t love every single work of art we saw that day, but the experience nonetheless was transformative. Paris and I were giddy. Partly just being together took us back to youthful days when so much was unknown and therefore still possible. But it was more than that. The political landscape, the realities of climate change, the worries over aging parentsso much weighs on us so much of the time, but this place reminded us that there are, after all, people who believe in the power of creativity, people who want to share ideas and bring beauty to the world. 

There are billionaires who choose to use their money to create these places and open them up to the public free of charge. There are artists who dare to share their wildly creative visions. There are people who come from all over the world (we heard at least five foreign languages spoken as we explored) to see those visions. These facts tempered the despair that shaped so many of our days.

That afternoon offered us the best kind of escape: we got lost in the narratives of great minds, in memories of our shared youths, and in the dreams we once had.

And when we found ourselves back on the sofa at Paris’s, we believed again, at least for a little while, in the wilder notions of our youths—those idealistic dreams of a world that values innovation and originality, a world in which sorrow and disappointment can be channeled into creative acts, a world in which even we cynics can be overwhelmed by a sense of wonder.

 

Header image: Jeff Koons sculpture, “Split-Rocker,” photo by Elizabeth Hazen.

Photos Courtesy of Glenstone Museum, Potomac, Maryland and Elizabeth Hazen

Related Stories
Neurodivergent Artist, Mother, and Activist Defies Invisibility

From the challenges of growing up with undiagnosed ADHD and autism, White-Johnson now celebrates the beauty in what others might see as symptoms. Sharing these insights, and genuine, authentic moments through her work, she hopes to amplify her vision of true justice.

From the Smithsonian to Forbes "30 Under 30," Baltimore Company ReBokeh is Changing How Audiences See Art

Named for the Japanese art of defocusing light sources in photography, bokeh, the app enables each user to custom-tailor their smartphone’s existing camera in real time to accommodate their unique vision requirements.

Baltimore art news updates from independent & regional media

This week's news includes: Glenstone Museum announces new exhibitions, the sublime Amy Sherald, Savannah G.M. Wood awarded Tabb Center humanities fellowship, from France to Baltimore, Ky Vassor installs work at Govans Presbyterian Church, remembering Susan Alcorn, and more!

A Conversation with the Instrument Maker on Rediscovering Play, Ancient Traditions, and Peace Through Sound

"I like to think that sound has information, so when we build and play and listen to these kinds of instruments today, it's like opening a portal to an experience that was designed in another time, in another world."