It was a rainy day when I set off on my walk to the University of Pennsylvania, west of downtown across the Schuylkill River. But I was on a mission. My Uncle Bob had given me the addresses of the Friends (Quaker) School and house he and my father had attended and lived in for a year with my grandparents while they were between their missions to China and Puerto Rico.
The rain let up mid-morning. It had to be over, no? So I headed out. Not so lucky. Soon I was drenched. But its good to see a city in the rain sometimes - the reflections off the wet pavement, the low clouds clipping the sky scrapers.
University of Pennsylvania has a bit of family history, as both my father and grandfather did post doctorate work there. It struck me as a classic urban campus, with a historic core consisting of a tree shrouded walk lined by historic buildings, and a outer bark of modern high rise dorms and departments and busy urban streets. There was an unusual and interesting diversity of buildings in the historic section of U Penn. One of the great private universities in America, and nice enough to browse through, but not the most beautiful either.
On the shores of the Schuylkill River, it had perfect access to the extensive trail system in Fairmont Park along the river. But that was for another day. Instead I headed north from the university and following my uncle's directions and ran into - Drexel. I never realized Drexel abutted U Penn. Now I knew why the neighborhood is called University City. I found the Friends School (now a community center for Drexel) and the house on a pretty residential street, likely full of Drexel staff and students, and headed back towards downtown.
Crossing the bridge, I came upon a ginormous classical revival building - the Amtrak station. The interior was one of those cavernous spaces that makes all public address announcements unintelligible. And in this case, it lacked the beauty of many big city stations from the heyday of rail. Mostly it just felt big. I hustled on through and out the other side. There to get a better look of my favorite modern building in Philadelphia. I don't even know what it is called, but its pure, asymmetric form, its pristine reflective glass, its siting away from any tall buildings continually caught my eye, drew me to it, moved me like no other. I still just stare at it. I've got to find out what it is....
Now I walked up the river a ways to the Philadelphia Museum of Art to see the Faces of Jesus exhibit. I arrived at the coat room with a sodden rain coat and water dripping from my jeans. They were very kind and hung my coat to dry.
Rembrandt had revolutionized the depiction of Christ midway through his life by drawing a model from the Jewish community around him instead of hewing to the traditions before based on the iconography of Byzantium. A more naturalistic, human face - more personal. The history of the transformation was interesting, the original studies beautiful, but there was more digressions into influences and art history than I wanted to spend an afternoon with, so I wandered the halls in to the permanent exhibits to see the oriental, impressionist, and modern collections. An afternoon very well spent.
On the way back up Franklin Parkway, I stopped in at one of the other many public buildings that line it - the Rodin museum. The largest collection of Rodin sculptures outside France unfortunately was closed for renovation. Fortunately the sculpture garden was open and better yet, The Gates of Hell, his massive cast door featuring the universally recognized Thinker was displayed in the portico. It towered above me, swirling with motion and brooding. I'm not usually a huge fan of Rodin, but this was amazing. I stood to look a long time. Philadelphia is maybe not New York city or Chicago, but it definitely holds its own with many others in the arts.
Back to the hotel for a hot shower and dinner with my sweetie - our anniversary.