So when I arrived on a cloudy Saturday afternoon at the Porches Inn, the worker's housing turned contemporary bed and breakfast that sits in the shadow of the enormous mill building of the museum, I remembered why I had wanted to return.
There is something erie and beautiful about this place. It's past is still palpable in it's present. The mountains surrounding the small town, the historic mill buildings with their juxtaposed modern content, the slow pace of life, all feel beautiful yet out of place somehow.
As I settled in, however, the strangeness dissipated and the quiet was a welcome change from the city. The next day, in the sunshine, I explored the museum. For three and a half hours I poured over the inspiring art and architecture.
I eventually found my way to the Sol LeWitt exhibit. I didn't know much about LeWitt's work, but as I explored the endless galleries of his wall drawings I fell in love. The simple beauty of hand drawn lines on a wall spoke to my own training and sensibility as an architect. Room after room the complex constructions pulled me in and I was hooked.
LeWitt's philosophy about art is fascinating. A series of instructions describe the way each piece is created by a draftsman. Each time the "art" is made anew and therefore slightly different than it's previous incarnation. The draftsman has a hand in the process of creating and the sacredness of the work of art lies in it's accessibility an impermanence.
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