The plan was to focus on the architecture, not on the art, because I'm still afflicted with shingles (actually, postherpetic neuralgia, one of the complications), and I'm so woozy on pain meds that trying to focus on art as well as on the design of massively expanded San Francisco Museum of Modern Art was out of the question.
So that's what we did, Claudia M. and I.
She drove us to BART and acted as my keeper/assistant while we roamed around the new version of SFMOMA, which you probably know is now the largest museum of modern/contemporary art in the US, bigger even than New York's Modern. It's 3-plus acres of gallery space, almost triple the size of the original 1995 Mario Botta building.
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| The new logo |
An aside: Dear readers, I know I'm a cranky crone, but how big do we need a museum to be? The art critic for the
San Francisco Chronicle logged 4.3 miles walking around this behemoth, and it took him five hours. We put in more than two hours of near-continuous walking and no art-looking on what was one of the Members' Preview Days.
From the front, SFMOMA looks the same, the big eye (oculus) of Botto's design is still there, as is the brick facade. Rising behind it is the ten-story addition designed by Snohetta, an international architecture firm inspired by "...the waters and fog of San Francisco Bay." (Please imagine a diagonal line through the "o" in Snohetta.)
Viewed from across the street, the new wing rises behind the original 1995 building.
Oliver Wainwright wrote in
The Guardian that the new
wing looks "
more like a giant meringue, a building-sized baked
alaska slumped on the skyline [behind] Botta's weighty temple." I
like the exterior of the new wing, for all its slumped Baked Alaska-ness. Here it is from another angle:
A postcard view from the side: the slump doesn't wrap around the corners
Inside, the original lobby/atrium is much the same, except that the central staircase has disappeared, replaced by a "dog-leg" staircase which angles up to the new second floor lobby:
The new upstairs lobby, where ticketing now happens, is more or less on the scale of an airport:
...with banks of computers and legions of welcom-ers in orange shirts:
We took refuge on a pleasant sculpture terrace on the third floor, gazing at the remarkable "Living Wall" of plants while we ate smuggled-in sandwiches:
The Living Wall, plus sculpture
Close-up of botanical textures. Most of the plants are California natives.
Back inside, we found a small but fascinating exhibit of drawings and models documenting the evolution of
Snohetta's design for the new wing:
More than 700 panels of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels are mounted on the facade
After that, we visited floor after floor, some via elevators (the red ones go to the older wing, the silver ones to the new)...
..and some via stairs:
...and more stairs...
...which are beautifully lit:
We'd emerge in long hallways, with galleries to the right.
A scarcity of benches
The few galleries we walked through were handsome rooms of a good size:
An Oldenburg sculpture and Lichtenstein painting, both donated by Doris and Donald Fisher, who founded the Gap and provided the funds for the new wing to house their formidable collection.
Untitled, Martin Puryear (wire mesh, tar, Douglas fir)
At this point, at about floor 5, we were tired and in need of caffeine. In the old days, we'd whip down to the lobby and visit the cafe, where you could get a good cup of coffee and a dessert (or a scrumptious lunch) and in off-hours use a spare chair to put your feet up.
No such luck. The old cafe is gone and in the process of being remodeled into a restaurant called "In Situ," run by the owner of a Michelin 3-star restaurant, which does not bode well for those of us who want to unwind and eat cheap.
Gone is the old cafe (right) just off the atrium/lobby
A new restaurant, In Situ, is under construction in its place.
At the moment, the choices for lunch or a pick-me-up are Sightglass, a coffee bar on the third floor, where you can buy artisanal coffee or teas and perch on stubby backless sofas, or to lean against a counter or table:
The Sightglass coffee bar: not much seating
Or Cafe 5 on the fifth floor, which serves lunches and presumably coffee AND has tables and real chairs. Alas, the line was just about out the door. We went back to the Sightglass coffee bar and drank (expensive) coffee while leaning forward on a backless couch.
After that, we made it to the seventh floor and checked out one of the oddest displays--Jason Farago, another
Guardian critic,
calls it "a calamity"--a hodgepodge, garage-sale arrangement of art promised to the museum through the Campaign for Art, the museum's attempt to lure new donors.
"I don't get it," said Claudia, staring at a pair of latrines.
Neither did I, plus I was so tired from trekking that we decided to give up.
We rode back down to the old lobby/atrium via a red elevator, and after a quick look at the museum store (same as it used to be), we were nearly out the door when a museum employee approached us with two rectangular white boxes.
"Would you ladies like a gift?" she said.
"Sure," we answered.
Here's what we each got:
And what they're charging $26 for in the museum store:
Go figure. Most people who were leaving got no gift, but Claudia says it's because "we looked nice."
The Upshot: If ever a museum called for a Surgical Strike Strategy, this is it. On future visits, I plan to go to one or two exhibits; figure out which, if any, restaurant provides the best rest-and-snack spot; sweep through the Museum Store; and GO. I love the art, and I love the exterior of the new wing and the Living Wall. But the scale of the new museum is overwhelming and not meant to be swallowed in a single gulp.
The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art is open daily, 10 am-5 pm, Thursdays until 9 pm, starting May 14. Admission $19-25, free 18 and under. 151 Third Street, SF. Take BART to the Montgomery Street Station.
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| Lights for sale in the museum store |
