Can art offer brilliant insights into the nature of existence and human perception?  Stir up deep and profound emotions about the True and the Beautiful, that can be life changing?  Can it bring new vitality to the streets of a city, or is that asking for too much?  And in that final case, who even cares?

Art critics, for one thing, but it better be the “right” kind of art.  And business leaders, for another, for whom the city’s revival is the crux of the matter, whatever it takes, and if truth and beauty or art offering a proper “sense of place” get the job done, so be it.  Much of this was belabored in A!Wgii?(1) and will not be fussed over here, though you might recall the deep if not profound emotions that prevailed in that little story.  It was mostly just about the dentist, after all.

That particular episode offered elements of dread and despair brought on by a few traumatic memories, and how the negativity generated was at times mitigated by moments of amusement and bewilderment, courtesy of some strange artsy doings out on the streets, sent down from Quebec of all places.  There might even have been some joy in there somewhere, though that could be stretching it.  The public “art” in question, such as it was, inspired little if any “sense of place,” just as the art critic had suggested, and on that particular wintry afternoon there was little evidence of a downtown surging with vitality, which is what has the business people on edge around here.  

So what about sampling it all again, only on a different day, under very different circumstances?  One with a bit more warmth and light, say on a weekend, with plenty more art or artsy offerings to savor?  A day with no serious business like a dental appointment to corrupt the experience, one with no other agenda than to check out the blessings those winter-loving Quebecers had bestowed upon us lucky denizens of beantown?  How about on a day that was barely wintry, on the lunar new year even, which the traditional Chinese tell us is the first day of spring?  And how about doing it with a valued partner, one willing to ride downtown on bikes, to top things off?

Bringing into play such an awesome array of positive elements was bound to result in a vastly different experience than the one previous, but where would WINTERACTIVE fit into the picture?  Would it enhance, detract, or turn out to be irrelevant?  The need for proper research into these matters was without question, not only for the sake of art critics and business folk, but for all the people of Boston, and God knows who else.  Our mission was clear, the outcome unknown, though if you’ve been paying attention you might have a pretty good idea about what was coming.

Mid-February in beantown: a beautiful time, the cold air crisp and the bright days especially bright.  Also a sometimes difficult time, when the sun is creeping upward in the sky all too slowly, as are the daily temperatures.  A time when hope springs eternal that the long winter shall soon be over, which can never happen fast enough.  Also a time when Boston tends to be cruelly buried under its share of snow, winter storm having piled on winter storm, to the point where some years it can get a bit surreal.  Snow tends to be beautiful in the city for a day or so, after which the operative word is burdensome, if not downright dangerous.  Just look at that picture of Iffley Road!  Taken about five years ago, and it has not looked like that in any winter since, thanks to a phenomenon that shall not be named. 

Snow is almost not a thing anymore in these parts, making life less burdensome overall, but the human mind will always find a way to complain about cold weather, which remains in ample supply.  It’s a less slippery world out there than it once was, but the daily drill of dressing in layers for every foray outside can become a burden unto itself, especially for a mind prone to finding burden in any available circumstance.  Also, get it wrong  –  the wind can be a huge part of this calculation  –  and the resulting suffering can persist for hours, and what were you thinking when you left out the nylon windbreaker, or that third pair of socks?

But we live in a time of chaotic weather, and now and then that chaos, ruling the sky as it does by means of air masses and jet streams and God knows what else, can occasionally bestow unexpected and sometimes spectacular gifts.  Such was the case on this day.  An unseasonable day.  A freak day.  An outlier day.  A 59º day, in fact, just one degree short of the record and 20º above normal.  Wicked wahm, as a local might describe it.  

Take a look at the chart and draw your own conclusions.  The roller coaster of daily temps depicted shows the usual mix of ups and downs that have become typical these days, but that peak in the middle is stunning, and is it not true that the biggest thrill on a roller coaster ride tends to occur as your little train passes over the scariest height?  Of course that “peak” experience tends to be edged with terror (some people’s idea of “fun” evidently), whereas it was quite a different story in the case of Boston’s particular “ride,” as we shall see.  It also might well be said in the end that ya hadda be heah.

And just what was it like heah, or rather, here?  If you’ve ever lived somewhere with a seriously long winter, you’d understand.  If you’ve ever lived in a city, preferably an old city with a definable center and densely populated neighborhoods, you’d be even more clear on what the vibe was like on the street, on a genuinely springlike day, the first of its kind in many months.

The city erupts.  The streets spew out people, many of them college-age because this is College City USA and it’s been a long semester cooped up in the dorm.  But this day there were also families with their kids and dogs, and moms trying to maintain order.  Everybody seemed to be in a good mood, because this gift arrived unexpectedly and we all deserved it and by God now we got to share it, and when somebody smiled everybody knew why and wasn’t it something!  And a big part of the appeal was in the shared knowledge that it’ll all start to fade by tomorrow and in a few days this day will be a fleeting memory so savor it while you can, all you lucky dogs.

So was it also a day for art?  It was certainly not a day for appreciating Monet’s haystacks or John Singer Sargent’s portraits, or indoor art of any kind, for that matter.  This was a day to leave those masterpieces in the dim hallowed halls of the MFA behind, along with the pricy offerings in the high-roller galleries along Newbury Street and anyplace where the art was not blessed by the sun. This was WINTERACTIVE’s day to shine!  

So did it?  Check out the snaps and see what you think!  We get a reprise of our old friends from the Dental Day of Dread, the unicorn-under-glass now clearly evident in the sunlight,  plus the cube-with-landscape-diorama which left out the model trains.  It also left out any illumination whatsoever, and would you believe that even on this bright sunny day it was nearly pitch dark in there?  Once again the spooky ability of a camera sensor, enhancing what light there was, brought a higher level of clarity than ever could have happened in the cold wet darkness of the previous visit, accompanied as it was by moments of emotional darkness, as well.  

So even with a good look, an air of mystery persists.  Thank heaven for the WINTERACTIVE signboard outside, where the artist’s intention is clearly stated.   Turns out it’s all about our precious planet’s desecration, symbolized by a barren rocky landscape festooned with billboards.  Billboards in and of themselves are desecration enough, but the ones here aren’t selling us anything.  Instead they depict various natural disasters, no doubt due to climate change.  The older among us might fondly recall those dramatic cowboy billboards of an earlier day, welcoming us to Marlboro Country.  This was not like that.

Hard hitting, for sure, and perhaps it’s a good thing that none of this was apparent during the first encounter, on that downbeat day a few weeks previous, when this writer/dental patient was beset by enough unsettling thoughts.  On this very different day, as we survey the rest of WINTERACTIVE, this one will show itself to be kind of an outlier, a piece bereft of any lightness whatsoever, in a cheery crowd of art pieces where whimsy seems to be the dominant organizing theme.  It would’ve been nice to see a Berkshire locomotive in there somewhere, pulling a string of classic Pullman cars and polluting the air with coal smoke, but you can’t always get what you want.

The whale swimming up on Washington Street could also be seen as a “message” piece, reminding passers-by of the slow-mo tragedy-in-the-making that is today’s natural world.  But one can also make an effort to suspend those thoughts in the moment (which most of us do a good deal of the time anyway) and simply behold the glory of creation, depicted in such a lovely way.  Good luck finding any joy with what lurks in the dark innards of that cube down at 175 Federal.  All of which begs the question of whether Quebecoise spend their winter days beset by such conflicting thoughts and emotions. The winters in Montreal run even longer than they do here in beantown, and God only knows what that can do to the individual or collective spirit after one too many cold dark afternoons.  Maybe that’s where poutine comes in, as a kind of antidote, playing a similar role to what we get with WINTERACTIVE.

But for now, on this lovely day,  just keep on walking.  Follow the map and keep your eyes peeled, for this isn’t some puny (or even grand) museum or gallery confined by walls and hallways, but the great cluttered expanse of downtown Boston, where art can turn up anywhere!  Like up there, that glass and metal pigeon above the crosswalk sign, which turns out to be wired for sound, courtesy of the crank on the birdhouse down below, one that beckons you to spring into action.  Hey, it tweets! Fun! Lighthearted!  Message-free!  Crank faster!

Cranked music is a recurrent WINTERACTIVE element, or some might even say gimmick.  A few more boxes were to turn up where that was all there was, and none played Walking in a Winter Wonderland, so what’s the point?  One wonders what the art critic would say about these, none of which were mentioned in his review.  Maybe because it’s a stretch to think of them as “art,” which it is, whereby the business/downtown revival person might ask “Does it matter?”  One suspects the merry crowd wandering past (and often ignoring) the odd items on the street were totally untroubled by such thoughts.

A variation on this that was hard to ignore was the row of stationary bikes along  Macy’s storefront, which you’d think would generate an unpleasant cacophony if pedaling musicians chose to ride them all at once.  Blessedly (and perhaps intentionally) it seems only one yielded much sound, the theme from Chariots of Fire. One could picture big brother pulling little brother off that that bike upon discovering his own was a dud, though this might depend on whether big brother was a fan of Vangelis.  And aren’t family dynamics in Boston better than that? Of course among well-mannered Canadians this would not even be a question.  And is the thought of chariots on fire supposed to warm one’s spirits on a bitter winter afternoon?

Which this day absolutely wasn’t, begging the question of whether all these high-spirited people walking the downtown streets were showing up on account of curiosity about WINTERACTIVE or for other reasons.  We did no on-the-street research of any kind, as it was far too nice a day to waste in such a way, so the definitive answer shall remain shrouded in mystery.

There was little mystery to the motivations of the crowd down at the spectacular High Street Place Food Hall, where it was all about the sushi and the seafood and the Tex-mex and the falafel and way more choices than that.  This was not your mall or airport food court, with no national franchises in sight.  This was a classy big city downtown food hall and it was all local, enhanced by the spacious ambience and great acoustics, rather quiet despite the crowd. 

There was also the rather unspectacular WINTERACTIVE music box outside the front door, to which nobody was paying attention and whose tune we could not recognize.  Along the street outside there were a few spherical interpretations of a Red line MBTA conveyance and Fenway’s Green Monster (to the uninitiated, that’s a wall and a scoreboard at the local nine’s ballpark and have you been living under a rock?), both of which could make a more legit claim to being “art” than most of WINTERACTIVE’s offerings.  That is not a criticism.

Some of the most startling WINTERACTIVE pieces demanded that one be looking skyward, which leaves out all the device-obsessive zombies that populate the planet these days, moving in lockstep staring at their screens.  Was this an “artist’s statement” unto itself?  The fact is that these were all a fine and somewhat subtle enhancement of the downtown scene, and would be welcome permanent installations.  It is also a fact that WINTERACTIVE got some wonderful publicity due to one of them, when someone called 911, thinking that what they were viewing was a real person in real distress, and the timely arrival of beantown’s fire brigade coming to the rescue made it clear that nobody at the BFD reads the papers, or at least not Arts or Business.

Then there’s the matter of that near-invisible slide, for some reason modeled after a flat top guitar (probably a Martin D-28 from the looks of it, and why not a Fender Stratocaster?) that must be an attempt at whimsy.  With a quick and no doubt disappointing run of about ten feet or even less, it might possibly bring joy to the four-year-old whose mom is willing to let them loose on it, but what stands out is how it is dwarfed by the gargantuan brutalist and much-maligned Boston City Hall.  

Was the placement of this minuscule bit of play equipment supposed to make a statement about the psyche of local citizens, as they contemplate doing business with an intimidating city government?  Or was it a response to city government’s recent attempt to “humanize” the vast windswept and formerly barren spaces of City Hall Plaza, which wise city fathers and mothers have finally blessed with trees and a playground? One that, by the way, includes as fine a slide as you will find anywhere, one which puts WINTERACTIVE’s little slope to shame?  On this day there was certainly a whole lotta joy going on over there, as the picture suggests.

In this same vein, perhaps the highlight of the day was the WINTERACTIVE piece only 50 yards away from the Cube of Serious Grimness, located on Summer Street, whose name should not go unnoticed in this case.  A bigger contrast of two “statements” could not be made, and one wonders if their neighboring placement was intentional, two artistic statements in conversation with one another.  The downbeat aspects of the Cube have been exhaustively belabored already, so happily we can focus on that stack of lightbulbs, circled around the bottom with what looks like firewood.  They light up when sensors detect anything moving on the astroturf.  Even better, the greater the motion, the more abundant the illumination.  When we arrived, two boys were chasing each other around the astroturf, faster and faster, egged on by the lights.  We cheered while mom looked concerned (astroturf can be pretty slippery) and the dog paid no attention whatsoever, at least not to them.

The whole scene seemed to sum up the noble intentions of WINTERACTIVE.  Say what you will about the success of the rest of it, this piece absolutely nailed it, aided in no small measure by the air masses and winds and whatever else had generated this near-record of a February day in downtown Boston, where the joy on the streets was palpable.  The deep thinkers among us might ponder whether the warnings emanating from the cube, about the role of human activity as regards global warming, might apply directly to this anomaly of a winter’s day, but can we please ignore that possibility, just this once?  One can only hope they were savoring a similar gift up in Montreal, but that is no sure thing.  And they didn’t even have WINTERACTIVE to help things out, not that they really needed it.

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