Friday, June 08, 2007
A Matter of Perspective
Today, as Peter Gabriel sang once, is Different. I don’t head off on the bus to my office downtown - instead, I only go to Japantown and there I’ll catch a ride with some colleagues to the memorial service for the director of my program, who succumbed to brain cancer last weekend after fighting it for 18 months. Judy was a good boss, a great woman, and a true champion for a program that started with her and has now truly taken on a vibrant life of its own. She’s barely been at work for nearly two years, but her office is still “Judy’s office” and her imprint is evident on everything that we do. She is missed.
Her memorial is at Fort Mason, a large complex down off the marina. That’s fitting - Judy loved the water and the bird that flock to its shore. It looks like it’ll be a grey day, which is good for Judy’s fair complexion. She will be surrounded by friends and family, which is good for her inherent sociability and as a testament to her skills as a relationship-builder. I’m not looking forward to it, but I am glad that I’ll be able to go.
Ft Mason is quite near the Palace of Fine Arts, which brings to my mind some notes I took a few months ago about that building when we were visiting near it. It’s a monumental edifice, a towering dome supported by columns that extent to either side in elegant arcades. It resembles reconstructed ruins, with its through-lines and classical friezes and openness. Originally built for the Pan Pacific Fair in 1915 or so as evidence of SF’s return as a great city after the temblor and conflagration of ‘06, the structure was not built for permanence and by the 1990’s it was getting pretty run down. As part of the rehabilitation of this landmark, the city had a new roof installed on top of the dome. The new roof is very distinct from the old one, much shinier and brighter, with a curious orange cast to the concrete. At night, uplit, it looks fantastic. Sometimes during the day, though, it doesn’t blend in quite properly with the original, old, faded construction. But during our visit there not long ago I did reach three observations about that gorgeous building and its setting, and today those thoughts seem to resonate so I will share them:
The structure does look like it’s wearing a strange orange hat when the light hits it wrong. But at sunrise and sunset, the air is filled with yellows and golds and oranges, and the new roof doesn’t just blend with the original structure - it enhances it, lends vibrancy and color to the whole construction. What looks right at sunrise can look very wrong at noon, but by sunset it just might prove itself to be right after all.
The PFA sits in a beautiful park fronted by a duck pond. Ringing it on three sides are some of the most beautiful and sought-after homes in post-quake San Francisco - Edwardians, moderns, craftsmans… one particular place seems out of place, though - an almost garish moorish-venetian fantasy with ogees and lancet windows and no sense of self-restraint at all. Walking past it on the sidewalk, I opined that it was just too much, an architect’s self-indulgence. However, it’s directly across from the towering dome of the PFA, and when I stand at the back of that dome the corinthian columns and acanthus bushes frame that weird, fantastic house; the dome’s elaborate interior designs and the structural friezes that surround its cap are echoed in the folly of the house across the street, and from that angle, no better design for that home could be imagined. What looks wrong from the wrong angle can be completely right from the right angle.
During our little visit to the PFA I separated from K and Z for a few moments, and then came back to catch up with them. I could have taken two little paths across a lawn, but instead I cut across and forged my own way. Halfway through this hypotenuse route I stopped and looked around: the columns and caryatids and gleaming dome, the gentle rock-steps leading down to a swimming enclosure at the bay’s edge, the kite-flyers on the green and the myriad masts of yacht-club toys clinking and bobbing around.... had I taken the path, I’d have missed this comprehensive perspective. Having made my own way, I got to see it all, and in a way that each element brought out new details and qualities in the others. Sometimes the best path is the once you invent for yourself.
The boy is starting to mumble in his crib; I’ve got to get myself ready for my morning and him for his. Have a good weekend and keep yourself open to the beauty that chooses to reveal itself to you.