From the advice of a new friend, I bought a family membership to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I knew it was a great place, but with my limited knowledge of all things art-related, I wasn't sure we would visit enough to get our money's worth. One trip there and I knew I was wrong. We could go every day for an entire year and still fail to see and experience everything the Met has to offer.
So when I saw a flyer for an exhibition going on atop the roof of the museum, I figured we might as well try it. It sounded fascinating...an ongoing construction project of a monumental bamboo structure, set to measure 100 feet long, 50 feet wide, and 50 feet high. Called the "Big Bambu," the New Jersey artists, identical twins Doug and Mike Starn, along with a crew of rockclimbers, have created a network of 5,000 30 and 40 foot long bamboo poles, tied together with 50 miles of nylon rope. An internal footpath allows groups of visitors to walk up and around on guided tours, taking in breathtaking views of the structure itself, as well as Central Park, which is about 110 feet below the highest viewing platform.
As we all got up early, I hoped that waking the entire family on a rare sleep-late-without-guilt day would prove to be worth it. We got to the museum around 8:45 and got in line for tickets that would be handed out at 9:30. When they started sending people away at 9:05, we breathed a sigh of relief that somehow we made the cut. Once we finally received our tickets, the earliest tour available was at 11:30. We gladly signed up and toured the museum until time to climb.
Our little group of 15 started the journey after a brief description of the Starn brothers and a signed disclaimer for any injuries that might occur. I figured Cameron could prove his manhood with a one-handed save if one of the bamboo poles gave way. As we walked up to the first viewing platform, I was instantly amazed with the strength of the sculpture. The colorful nylon ropes were everywhere, adding to the beauty of this unique creation. As our guide described the vision behind the ongoing work of art and the painstaking process of building it, I began to obsess on the courage these two brothers shared. I pictured my elementary school art teacher, praising the children who colored in the lines and chastising the ones who scribbled and doodled around the edges. You couldn't help but feel that the Starn brothers must have been significant doodlers.
We continued up the winding footpath, surrounded by the amazing network of poles. It felt like being inside the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse. We finally reached the next platform, which had been dubbed "the living room." We all took a seat on the bamboo benches, noticing the abundance of bamboo cup holders (apparently the brothers like to host after-hours parties up there) and various bamboo adornments, such as a nylon-rope guitar and an intricate wind chime. Both of the girls agreed that they would like to live there for a while.
Our guide split us into smaller groups for the final platform viewing. We ascended to a spot about 40 feet above the rooftop, able to look out over the entire sculpture. He said the brothers had an image in mind as they watched over the creation of Big Bambu and wanted us to guess what it was. Cameron guessed a roller coaster, and I was quite sure he was right. The rising and falling lines of the sculpture were magnificent. But ultimately, the answer was a cresting wave that portrays movement, power and life. Of course. It was so clear once you knew...you could almost hear the water crashing right there in the middle of Central Park.
As we waited for the next group to come back from the highest vantage point, we settled into the benches and began to talk about the limits we put on our minds as adults. When we were kids, talking about building a 50 foot tall bamboo structure that people could walk through would strike no one as strange. We might even try to attempt it on the school playground, although the $40 a pole price tag might cause us to look for a cheaper building material.
Somehow as we grow, we become so afraid of looking weird, of sounding outlandish, of having dreams that go too far beyond the boundaries of what is acceptable. We diminish our imaginations and fold everything up to fit neatly into the little box of convention that we impose upon ourselves.
Oh, to defy convention. To dream big and bright and boundless, without fear or disbelief.
Here's to bamboo, and twin brothers who never grew up.
