If
your petan elephant could talk, what would be the first thing it says?
100 life-size elephant sculptures, each hand-carved from the invasive plant lantana camara by roughly 300 Indigenous artisans from India’s Nilgiri Hills and modeled after real, named elephants, are on display for free along Boston’s Commonwealth Avenue Mall. They’re all facing in the same direction—moving as a herd down Comm Ave.
So, what would they say? Thinking…
Maybe, “stick together – we’re all we’ve got”
What’s the most annoying trope in books or movies?
Listen, one thing I know about is Massholes. I grew up with plenty of them. I know when the accent is real.
In movies, they never get it right. Even Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, who grew up in highbrow Cambridge, don’t get it quite right. (Despite that slight flaw, I loved the film Good Will Hunting. It captured one of the key characteristics of Masshole mentality—class awareness. “You think you’re bettah than me cuz you go to Hah-vahd? Well Faaaack you”)
Mark Wahlberg, on the other hand, is an objectively terrible actor, but an authentic Boston Masshole. Did you know he grew up in the infamous South Boston “projects” and was involved in a number of serious racially-motivated assaults and harassment incidents as a teenager in Boston during the mid-1980s? I did! He’s the type of guy I would’ve avoided like the plague in high school.
Well, this is all a long-winded way of saying that I finally saw an authentic portrait of that trope last night. The film Tony about one summer in the life of the late celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain has a great Masshole character played by Leo Woodall. He’s SO good in this. In my opinion, he steals the film, which is largely set on Cape Cod in the summer of 1975. His accent and demeanor are perfect. It just figures that he’s a Brit! He totally nailed his part. GENXers should go see the film for Woodall and the soundtrack (including some classic Jonathan Richman) alone.
Which is the best restaurant in your city?
For the purposes of this prompt, I’m going to claim Boston as “my” city, even though I live about 20 miles northwest in suburbia.
And the winner is:
Wonderful food
Classy, intimate atmosphere
Great service
Terrific location in Boston’s most beautiful neighborhood—the Back Bay—at the corner of two of Boston’s most iconic streets: Massachusetts and Commonwealth Avenues, thus the name. DeuxAve (get it? French for two avenues)
If you’re coming to Boston and you want to splurge on fine dining ($$$), I recommend a meal at Deuxave.
Did you know that only two US cities are hosting both World Cup games AND Tall Ships this summer?
Can you guess which ones?
I’ll give you a hint. One is where the colonists gave King George a transatlantic middle finger by dumping a bunch of British tea in the harbor. The subsequent British crackdown pushed the colonies towards open rebellion and kicked off the American Revolutionary War in 1775. (Also, it rhymes with Austin.)
The other is a sleepy little town called New York.
Here are a few shots of the magnificent vessels taken from another vessel in the harbor. (The same place they dumped that tea.)
Did you guess BOSTON as the only other city besides New York hosting both World Cup and Tall Ships?
You are correct!
As if to better explain yesterday’s prompt about passion, the universe put me smack dab in the middle of true passion.
Team Scotland is playing their first few World Cup games in Massachusetts and the “Tartan Army” has taken over Boston.
The kilts, the bagpipes, the hats, the songs…these people embody passion.
I’m not much of a sports fan, but I do love seeing happy people.
Scotland won, the Knicks won…may the joy of others filter into the collective consciousness—so much so that we completely ignore the trashy spectacle desecrating our White House today.
FDT!
OK, we’ve reached the last day of 2025. It was certainly not the year I had hoped for when I worked on the 2024 election. Let’s face it, a full year of Trump 2.0 has been devastating. Ain’t no way to sugarcoat that. And we’re only 25% done with the senile tangerine rapist’s second term.
But I’m going to look back on non-political memories of 2025 and post 12 photos (one from each month). I double-checked that these are all photos I haven’t previously posted. No more Ireland pics I promise!
Wishing everyone a Happy New Year’s Eve. Our plan is to go to the movies to see Wicked Part 2. I’m a Wicked fan, but we haven’t seen Part 2 yet due to The Knee. Hopefully this first foray back to the movies will go well.
There are many beautiful old doors in Boston’s historic North End (aka the Italian neighborhood), but 160 Endicott Street is not one of them.
It is, however, a meaningful door in terms of my life story. I lived there in the early 1990s with my roommate Bridget, a friend from work. It was the last place I lived as a single woman. After that, I moved in with a boyfriend who I later married.
160 Endicott was truly a dump. It was the first floor apartment over a convenience store that I think was some type of front for a low-level gambling operation. Their most popular item was lottery tickets. They had a few dusty cans of soup and literally nothing else you would ever want to buy. The irony was the hand-carved sign, “If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.” They never had anything I needed. Not a tampon, not an Advil, nothing.
The apartment itself was totally unrenovated and smelled liked cats. The kitchen was horrible. The bathroom had cockroaches. The downstairs neighbors (who lived in an unfinished basement beneath the store) were always asking to borrow my car so they could drive to the dog racing track up north. But it was in a great location in the heart of old Boston and we could afford it on our art museum salaries, with absolutely no help from parents, which was my main objective in moving there. I really didn’t want to be beholden to my parents for anything. I needed some space from them and my troubled sister.
I took my kids back to visit in 2009. It looked much the same from the outside, but the store inside looked cleaner and nicer. New owners had taken over.
I didn’t ask to see the old apartment, but the green exterior bay window looked exactly the same. And the sign was still there:
The twenties are such a formative decade. So many forks in the road. Decisions made. Paths chosen. Roads not taken.
Memories of my time on Endicott Street include gaining a more visceral understanding of poverty (I thought our place was bad, until I saw how the people under the store were living); finally ending a longterm romantic relationship that had been going on and off for years; great authors—like Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou—introduced to me by my roommate Bridget (a reader and a feminist); and food smells—especially Bova’s bakery, open 24/7. Not much in Boston is open all night…but Bova’s is. There are better bakeries in Boston’s North End, but nothing smelled as good as Bova’s at 3am.
Posted for Dan’s Thursday Doors
Yesterday I went to a concert by the world-renowned Boston Symphony Orchestra in Boston’s historic Symphony Hall.
My friend Eileen and I had wanted to attend this particular concert because the planned guest conductor—a young man we knew from our days working together at the Conservatory—was making his Boston debut.
AFTER we bought our tickets, we were notified that he wouldn’t be conducting due to “ the recurring effects of a shoulder injury.” Instead, 29-year old BSO Assistant Conductor Anna Handler would be making her Symphony Hall debut. OK, well at least we were seeing someone’s debut!
The first piece was “The Imagined Forest” by 31-year old British composer Grace-Evangeline Mason. It was atmospheric and beautiful.
Something about seeing these two young women—the conductor and the composer—take their bows together felt like Progress. I’ve seen plenty of women take their bows as soloists, but not as conductors and composers—the artistic leaders—at the very highest level of classical music.
There was no mention of it being a historic first or anything like that, but you could feel that the audience was 100 percent supportive. Partial standing ovation (unusual for the first piece in a concert). Many cheers.
Brava, ladies. Well done. Respect.
I dragged brought my husband to the special Winslow Homer exhibition at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. Given my recent interest in watercolor painting, I couldn’t miss Of Light and Air.
Here’s what I learned:
Watercolors fade. These paintings are delicate. That’s why they only display them once every forty years or so—and in very dark galleries. (If you really want to make art that lasts forever, watercolors might not be a great choice.)
Pencil lines are OK, as long as they don’t bleed into the paint. In fact, most of his works were described as “watercolor over graphite.” And being able to draw well really helps. Plenty of modern painters can’t draw, but most artists I admire draw well…really well. So, keep practicing or studying drawing.
Having started as a commercial lithographer and magazine illustrator, Homer could create a realistic image with just a few well-planned lines. In fact, one of his magazine employers sent him to the front lines of the Civil War to draw battlefield images. Talk about trial by fire!
Watercolor paintings are about choices. There is no real white in watercolors. Your white is your paper, so what you choose not to paint is a critical decision.
Things can be represented with just a few brush strokes. Layers matter. Choices. What will you choose to fully depict? What will you simply allude to with a brush stroke or two?
Everyone’s eyesight gets worse as they age. Apparently Homer told people to save rocks for your old age, because “painting rocks is easy.”
This door is a work of art by Kazumi Tanaka, a living artist born in 1962.
First conceived in 1996 during an unusual artist residency at Sabbathday Lake in Maine (the last active Shaker community in the world), Tanaka’s door was not shown until 2025. As part of The ICA/Boston’s Believers exhibition, the anamorphic door sat permanently ajar and is said to have alluded to Shaker founder Mother Ann Lee’s sentiment that the Shakers should open windows and doors to receive “whoever will arrive” in a spirit of openness and generosity.
Thursday Doors challenge
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