Installment #4 in Monolisticle's Ongoing Campaign Against the "Internet of Endless Listicles."
(Photo: Peter J. Sieger Architectural Photography)
On one hand the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth feels entirely out of place in Forth Worth, Texas.
On the other hand, it feels so perfectly in place in Fort Worth, Texas.
Because as quintessentially Texas as Fort Worth may be, it’s also known for its dichotomies, juxtapositions, and eclectic mix of high and low culture.
“The Modern is more than just a building. It is a complete architectural and landscape entity. It's not wedged in between other city structures. Or compromised in any way in order to 'fit' into a space. Ando clearly had room to play.”
In Fort Worth you have some of the best small museums and theater and arts in the world, mixed in with cattle stockades and barbeque joints and rodeos. There’s a lot of money in Fort Worth, and fortunately a large portion of that money goes toward supporting the Arts—thanks to an abundance of generous benefactors.
Fort Worth is at once local and international. Old and new. Comforting and stimulating. Laid back and challenging. My kind of town.
And The Modern is more than just a building. It is a complete architectural and landscape entity. It's not wedged in between other city structures. Or compromised in any way in order to "fit" into a space. Tadao Ando clearly had room to play. It's Texas, after all—no shortage of space.
Entering the Modern in Forth Worth, Texas is like walking into a cathedral. Because there is something about superb minimalist architecture, and often the art within it, that is spiritual and transcendent. Although clearly of a completely different style of architecture, the concrete spaces within The Modern evoke a similar quiet stillness and spiritual calm reminiscent of the great gothic stone cathedrals of Europe. Or, to put it in the culture of its architect, a monastery in Japan.
Whether religious or spiritual, Ando's work—especially its almost haiku-like simplicity and creative use of natural light—never fails to elicit a profound emotional response. He often uses the word "kokoro" (heart, emotion, feelings) to describe the intent of his work.
Subscribe to monolisticle for free weekly articles sent to your inbox, everything from art, culture and music to food, film, and travel. Not all the things. Only the best things.
After winning the Pritzker Prize in 1995, Ando donated his $100,000 prize to the orphans of the Kobe earthquake. It's clear that the values that he draws from in his architecture are more than just professional.
But even if this museum had been constructed out of cardboard, it would still be worth the visit, simply for the artwork inside. You’ll find works by post-World War II greats such as Andy Warhol, Jackson Pollock, Gerhard Richter, Richard Serra, and Susan Rothenberg, along with more contemporary artists like Cindy Sherman. And if you time it right, you'll also find temporary exhibitions by the likes of Kehinde Wiley, one of my favorite contemporary painters.
When you place such astounding artworks inside such an astounding structure—a structure approached with the humility that its primary purpose is to celebrate the works it houses—that’s when you comprehend the full depth (and magnificence) of this building.
I’ll never forget the time I first turned the corner in The Modern and was confronted by the large concrete room whose sole purpose seemed to be to reveal a luminous green Warhol self-portrait at the very end of the long room. That entire mass of cubic space, long narrow galleyway to the right, and the concrete stairs rising from below all seemed to be devoted to the revelation of one single work of art. Breathtaking. Literally.
That's only one example.
Equally captivating is the restraint shown by the curators to not fill every square inch of wall with art, as one often sees in museums. This restraint honors the architecture, as well as the artists who know that if their work is presented in this museum, it will receive the respect, and space, it deserves.
As wonderful as the whole is, the joy of Ando's Modern also comes in its individual parts and layers and moments. Visual surprises. Dynamic pairings. The reflecting pool that surrounds it. Even acoustical shifts resulting from differing physical spaces.
I feel obligated to also briefly mention the other two nearby museums that complete the architectural museum trifecta of Fort Worth: the Kimble Art Museum (designed by Louis Kahn) and the Amon Carter Museum (designed by Phillip Johnson). That's a lot of architectural talent in one place.
For my tastes, a perfect day in Fort Worth would be as eclectic as the city itself. I'd begin with breakfast at Esperanza's on Park Place. Spend the full morning at The Modern. Lunch in the museum cafe. Tour the stockyards or take in a rodeo in the afternoon. Then dinner at Angelo's. Although there is much love for some of the newer barbeque restaurants in Fort Worth, my favorite is, and always will be, Angelo's.
The architecture at Angelo's could not be more different than that of The Modern. Its flourescent-lit wood-paneled walls are covered with taxidermied game and beer displays, not art. But they're both shrines. Of a different kind.
If you enjoyed this article, please click the Facebook or Twitter icons at the bottom of this page and share it with others. You'll be helping to support our work, and the work of the artists, restaurants, cultural institutions, and experiences we write about. And we all would certainly appreciate the support right now. Thank you!
To unsubscribe, email us at monolisticle@monolisticle.com
@themodernfw
@angelosbbq
@joetgarcias