The idea formed instantly: I’d ride the new Carver Bauhaus skateboard—the “Carvehaus” as it’s officially known—through the grounds of the Glenstone Museum.
It’d be a perfect combination of performance art, modernism and prayer.
Carver is the great California skateboard company that revolutionized skateboarding by creating a truck that swivels in the front. The ride flow is much smoother than other boards, more like surfing. Carver’s designs were also beautiful, with art by people like Native-American Diné artist and surfskater Di’orr Greenwood and surfers Bing Copeland, Courtney Conlogue and Ben Aipa.
Now comes the new release of the Carvehaus. The board’s based on the Bauhaus Movement in Germany in the early-20th century. The Carver p.r. copy puts it well: “One of the most important design and architecture movements of the 20th century, Bauhaus introduced the revolutionary Modernist movement, which sought a break from the past in search for new forms of expression, the movement feels as fresh now as it did 100 years ago. From Modernism arose such concepts as ‘Form Follows Function’, a maxim we apply in our own approach to design and innovation. Our core mission has always been a search for new ways to express the carved line, and with the CARVEHAUS we pay homage to the clean and bold aesthetic that brought a new way of seeing the familiar.”
It’s a perfect fit for a skateboard. Because the German Bauhaus Movement (1919-1933) combined fine art and functional craft, many of its most lasting works were not necessarily painting and sculpture, but furniture, craft and home design. Marcel Breuer, Marianne Brandt, and others created the minimalism that would influence the furniture and utensils of the 1950s-60s, and architects such as Walter Gropius and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe were the forefathers of the International Style that still exists in architecture.
The Carvehaus art design is two circles, red and blue, intersecting, with a curve of yellow where they overlap. It signals pure early-20th century modernism. As is always the case with Carvers, the patented deck, truck and wheels are top flight—industrial, indestructible, archetypal and beautiful; Bauhaus masterpieces themselves. For me modernism has also always had a profound spiritual power. Although the movement is considered an artistic break from the past, and it was, there’s also something godly and familiar in the shapes and designs. Carl Jung was right that there are archetypes that have always existed that we don’t create but can discover. It’s why Piet Mondrian’s squares seem both new and familiar, why Picasso hits us with something new yet also buried deep in the psyche, why Rothko’s shapes evoke not just radicalism but contemplation. It’s why minimalism in music such as the composer Philip Glass can be both soulful and surprising. As Chesterton said, the Christian can believe in both fate and free will.
For these reasons the Glenstone Museum would be an apt place to break in the Carvehaus. The museum, just a couple miles away from my childhood home in Potomac, Maryland, presents, as the brochure says, “a holistic experience of art, architecture and landscape.” Founders Emily and Mitch Rales have taken more than 230 acres and added two gallery buildings and several outdoor sculptures. “The museum also wants to provide you with a relaxing environment fit for contemplation of its thought-provoking pieces of art,” the guide adds. “If you’re looking to be truly immersed in both mind and body during a museum-going experience, Glenstone is the perfect fit.”
The main building, the Pavilion, includes pieces by Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, Alexander Calder, Andy Warhol and Barbara Kruger. They’re part of an exhibit called “Iconoclasts” which feature artists “who have made some of the most radical contributions to art in the 20th century.” Man Ray. Ming Smith. Henri Matisse. Basquiat. Philip Guston. Eva Hesse. (I didn’t really like the Marcel Duchamp “Fountain,” which is just a urinal set on a pedestal.) There are video pieces. Sitting adjacent is the home where founders Emily and Mitch Rales live.
Towering over the entire campus on a hill is Jeff Koons’ “The Split Rocker,” a giant 40-foot green head of what’s either a horse or a dinosaur. “This intersection of art with nature is an essential component of Glenstone,” the guide says. Sloping down from "The Split Rocker" are concrete paths—skateboard heaven.
There was one problem: there’s no way in hell the docents and managers of Glenstone would let someone shred through the grounds. Still, these are art people, so I drove over to ask. I approached the staff at the front entrance and spelled out my idea. Then I showed them the deck. One thing about the people who work at Glenstone—they’re knowledgeable and nice, have good senses of humor, and are easygoing. They’re cool.
They also know the rules. One docent who looked like she was young enough to be in art school told me the policy: “Unless it’s for personal mobility, nothing with wheels.” Wait—this was for personal mobility. Very rapid personal mobility. Artistic personal mobility. Bauhaus mobility. No dice. Still, she and the other workers got and appreciated my idea. As I was leaving the girl took a second look at the Carvehaus. “Man,” she said, “that is one rad deck.”