Windows in Breezewood diner

August 22, 2008
The morning began with a complimentary breakfast next door to the Best Western in Breezewood, PA. We breezed through our meal, but not before taking in the scenic view through their windows (see above). High tailing it to Fallingwater over tollways and windy state roads, we still missed our 10 am viewing of the legendary home made famous by the irascible Frank Lloyd Wright. The burble of the waterfall only just drowned out the sound of retirees oooing and ahing over the decor. It felt like an open house for bargain hunters scavenging at a sub prime foreclosure auction, even though we learned the maintenance is a cool million and a half. We assume however that the old owners would throw in the dehumidifier and Diego Rivera print for no extra cost.


Yet visiting the site made it clear why the Kaufmans (Pittsburgh retail tycoons) chose that spot. The grounds are lush and green and cicadas alternate with the waterfall for a bucolic soundtrack. Built in the 1930s, it has been upstaged by more contemporary buildings, but there is still a nice sense of flow and light. The design was meant to promote a healthy lifestyle, so the sunning decks (one for every inhabitant) and airy rooms succeed. That healthy mission has evolved into an environmentally conscious stewardship--exemplified by the notices posted over each urinal. As male visitors make their own waterfalls, we learn that 150,000 (the average number who visit each year) "potential flushers" will have their waste recycled and treated to irrigate the surrounding gardens.

After eating blackberry pie straight out of the pan in Donegal, we headed on up to Pittsburgh and the Mattress Factory on that city's North Side. A reclaimed factory space that showcases conceptual art (in the manner of P.S. 1 in Queens), there is an impressive selection of permanent and changing exhibits from international artists. James Turrell's work challenged not only one's senses but also the Pittsburgh fire codes. Pitch black or dimly lit rooms intentionally disorient for one big effing mind trip. Stranded in total darkness, you're left to wonder how large the space truly is (bound in by guard rails, only the sound of one's voice in the manner of a bat sending out sonar helps establish the contours). It was also a reminder that this kind of intimacy and concentration would be trampled by the Barney's warehouse-like stampede of MOMA.

But if you want to talk about your senses being thrown into disarray, try following up the above with the unique Pittsburgh sandwich making custom (made famous by the Primanti Brothers in the Strip District) of shoving a whole side of french fries between thick slices of bread. After eating one of these sandwiches, you've drunk the proverbial Kool Aid and wonder why you've gone so many years without fries in your salad, your apple sauce, your ice cream sundae. Sadly we weren't able to enjoy the many other shops and food emporiums along the Strip since they seem to keep bankers' hours.


We wrapped-up the evening drinking coffee on the Pitt campus. We're done for the night. Pennsylvania it is again.
--Michael Dashkin and Peter Miller