Isn’t it often the case that what you weren’t planning is what ends up being the most memorable of any excursion?

Last week we made a speedy trip to Boston to see “Fashioned By Sargent” at the MFA before it closes on the 15th. Even with timed entry on a weekday, it was very crowded and tough to dodge the many other viewers in order to truly see the paintings or read the gallery notes.

Happily, the highlight turned out to be seeing some of the real-life dresses displayed near each of the portraits in which they appear, lending a better understanding of how Sargent rendered textures and draping. For anyone who sews, getting a close-up look at the detailed workmanship and needle skills of 19th and early 20th century clothing made waiting for the crowd to thin around each display case worthwhile.

Comparatively, the rest of the museum felt enjoyably spacious and it was a treat to explore many of the other exhibits on view. There were three I can’t stop thinking about: Matthew Wong: The Realm of Appearances, Dinorá Justice: The Lay of the Land, and Toshiko Takaezu: Shaping Abstraction.

In hindsight, the Sargent exhibit landed like a heaping serving of eye-candy, whereas the Wong, Justice and Takaezu works were more main course fare. Interestingly, all three maintain their strong individual voices while unabashedly nodding toward and weaving in influences from art of the past and of their contemporaries. I walked out with a lot to digest.

The overarching connection I found between the three of them (and what I most enjoyed about their disparate work), was the mainstay of pattern. Cacophonous? Yes.  Tranquil? Also yes.  Satisfying? Definitely.

I think it’s natural to find a sort of pure, visceral joy in pattern. I’m sure it has something to do with survival, but leaving evolutionary science out of it, I googled “what makes patterns so attractive to humans?”. The answer was that we are drawn to patterns because they help us make sense of the world around us, satisfying our brain’s need to find order in chaos.  Reading further about each of these artists, it’s not a huge leap to think that perhaps that definition describes a large part of what each of them may well have been/are seeking.

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One last unexpected treat the MFA had in store:
During the pandemic, I followed Eben Haines’ Shelter In Place Gallery on Instagram. Maybe you did too?

It was such a lovely thing to see at the time — ongoing exhibitions of artists’ “Large scale” work, placed and photographed in his miniature space, giving the impression of a full-scale gallery show at a time when no one could venture beyond their homes. It was a wonderful troupe d’œil illusion.
Coming across Haines’ miniature gallery, in the flesh, on view in the “Tiny Treasures” exhibit of miniatures last week, felt like running into an old friend.

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And finally,