I first stumbled upon Maggazzino’s opening on GQ Style, of all places. The article amiably named it as New York’s Next Great Art Escape, and unlike its predecessors (Dia Beacon, Storm King Art Center, for instance), it was supposed to be effortless to get to by public transportation. For those of us who do not own a car, this was a major selling point.
Note: The blue tape was on every, single, piece of glass. “Be cautious – glass,” it said. Wonder how many people walked into this to warrant this sign.
But like everything else, I put it in the back of my mind and forgot about it. Because let’s face it. no matter how close and convenient it may be, it was still a good 60 miles away.
Fast forward to one of those weeks when the rain fell ruthlessly, and the cool air seemed to seethe through every crack. Feeling I can no longer advocate “New York is the place to be” with a fervent passion, I vowed to get out the minute the weather subsided, if only for a temporary escape.
I found myself reverting back to Magazzino, and though there were hardly any new publications regarding the museum, I decided even a potential colossal mistake was better than sitting around doing nothing.
Just look at this view.
I made an appointment on its official website (you can make one as late as the day before, which I found to be rather thoughtful. Last minute getaway to upstate? Pourquoi pas), checked the time schedule to Cold Springs, and bought my tickets on MTA eTix to avoid the lines in Grand Central. Other than missing the train and had to wait for the next one, and a hesitant call to the museum to reaffirm a shuttle, it was, as the editor boasted, quite easy to navigate.
I managed to score a seat by the window, and spent the next 88 minutes eyes practically glued to the increasingly beautiful scenery outside. For instance:
Peekskill station, complete with a dock. and miles of river. The sunset must be breathtaking.
When the sun came out to play, and made everything a thousand times more pleasant.
The front entrance was reminiscent of the Stahl House, and the sides were eerily similar to the Glass House. In another words, streamlined to a fault.
Magazzino, as the brochure lovingly indicated, meant “Warehouse” in Italian.
Somehow, even the literal translation sounds much better in Italian.
Like any sound exhibit, it was best to view things in its designated order. I was encouraged to begin with the inaugural video first, and move clockwise. Normally I would skip the video, and go on my own adventure, but I persisted. It turned out the video was the perfect guide to the confounding but stunning exhibit. “Artists are like crystals,” she emphasized. “There are different facades, but the only thing that doesn’t change, that is unchangeable, is change itself.”
Rather profound, I thought.
Some of the pieces would look right at home on the walls Dia: Beacon, another, aptly named “Clino,” had a semblance of the Guggenheim. The building itself was a work of art, and therefore, everything in it. Unlike the undulant lights at Dia, it was soothing and predictable here. The textures too, played a monumental role in the transitioning between the 60 odd pieces.
A favorite by Calzolari, Rapsodie Inepte. Made from freezer unit, neon, lead, refrigerator motor, and transformer.
Did I mention I was practically the only person in most of the wings? I was there for two perfect hours, and there were less than ten people browsing throughout.
I knew this because I counted. There were seven, scattered around the premise.
The last time I felt this free was when I was browsing the 19th & 20th century European art on the second floor of the Met, and that was only because I went there right when they opened. It was an absolute privilege to enjoy art with exclusively.
So grab someone you like, and if there is no one with whom you can share your enthusiasm, grab me. We will be fun, witty, and profound.
It will be a blast.
For reference, I am 5 feet 2 inches. I typically wear XS/S or 0-4 for apparel and 6.5-7.5 for shoes.
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