On Monday afternoon we all played hooky to see Martin Puryear's retrospective at Moma. The show was breathtaking. Walking into the first room was like stepping foot into a cathedral; almost immediately upon entering the space everyone is compelled to look up. The sculptures reach beyond the ceiling, piercing through to the stars. With the horizon erased and the sky squished to a minimum, city dwellers tend to keep their eyes on the sidewalk, especially those of us with children constantly doing silly walks at our side. So it felt quite nourishing to lift my gaze up and bask in the beauty of Puryear's sculpture. As ethereal as this work is, it is equally physical. I could practically taste the sawdust from their making on my tongue and feel my feet pushing through wood shavings as I walked through the museum.
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