
First of all, I love the Phipps Conservatory. I have been going there ever since I can remember. My family would take us almost religiously to the different shows that showcased the seasons. We would go at Christmastime, and then in the Spring. I have always felt a fondness for Phipps in my heart. It makes me proud to live in Pittsburgh. When I lived in Chicago, I went searching for a place like this....a sanctuary of plant life, of majestic ceilings that feel like you are walking through a dream, a humble beauty that is welcoming and yet astonishing. I didn't find it.
When I first heard about the Chihuly exhibit, I was nervous. It made me anxious to imagine someone coming in and trampling my banana trees and vanilla orchids with their art. I was afraid he would "take over" a place that, in my mind, was so very perfect.
I was terribly wrong. What this artist accomplished is what we all ought to strive towards as artists, as human beings. Co-existing. Bringing out the beauty in the environment we are in. Celebrating it, giving it new life. It makes you think in new ways about the plants, about the relationships the glass forms have with the plant structures. I feel that Chihuly did an amazing job of making you really see.

So, the rooms. I will highlight some of my personal favorites. The room that the first photo is of is a stunning representation of the exhibit. The orange glass looks like tongues of fire, coming up from the ground. It looks as if it has dialogue with the plant life. The forms are similar, but not the same. It is poetic, and prepares you, I feel, for the blood red poetry of the room to follow.

My favorite room was this simple, yet phenomenal work of art. Vertical red glass seemed to come both down from the high cieling and up from the earth simultaneously. In the very green room of ferns you find its opposite. In a room that breathes life, you feel the poetry of the red, you feel the symbolism before you can think of it. He transformed this room.


Then there is the desert room. I have a photograph on my phone that I look at every day of this room. Sitting high like a chandelier is a yellow star-like form that looks amazing among the prickly cacti. The lavendar spears in this room were such a pleasant surprise. I would have never thought I could love lavendar so much. Apparently these "reeds" are made of Neodymium, a rare earth mineral. They look stunning with the Desert plants.

Lastly, the "East Room" I don't love blues and purples. I don't typically understand the sparkly princess feel of these colors. But the moment I walked into this room, I felt as if I were at peace with the world. That's all I can say.
For me, the work Chihuly has done here reminds me of Christo and Jeanne-Claude a little. Taking something beautiful, and making it new. Making the viewer see it differently. (Look up the wrapping of Point-Neuf in Paris.)
We went back for batteries, and I'm really glad we did. We met a cute Pittsburgh family, whose youngest member had the same boots as Laura. Only his were dinosaurs. It was wonderful. I haven't met anyone to date who has seen this that hasn't loved it. There is something universal about it, something that defies controversy.

There we are....
An excerpt by Davira S. Taragin, Director of Exhibitions and Programs at Racine Art Museum:
"Dale Chihuly is most frequently lauded for revolutionizing the Studio Glass movement, by expanding its original premise of the solitary artist working in a studio environment to encompass the notion of collaborative teams and a division of labor within the creative process. However, Chihuly's contribution extends well beyond the boundaries of both this movement and even the field of glass: his achievements have influenced contemporary art in general. Chihuly's practice of using teams has led to the development of complex, multipart sculptures of dramatic beauty that place him in the leadership role of moving blown glass out of the confines of the small, precious object and into the realm of large-scale contemporary sculpture. In face, Chihuly deserves credit for establishing the blown-glass form as an accepted vehicle for installation and environmental art, beginning in the late twentieth century and continuing today."
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