In just a couple of weeks we’ll be walking out the door of ACMA, down the stairway beneath the circular portico, and away from a building that won’t exist when we begin school in the fall. It’s a weird feeling, knowing that this building we love won’t be standing by the start of school next year, and that makes it an emotional time for lots of us who have called the C.E. Mason Elementary School building home, some for decades. And…
It’s going to be okay. We know that the heart of our school isn’t in the walls (that would be asbestos and seventy year old plaster). The real ACMA is in the people who fill the school, kids and adults, and the history of creative souls who have called our school home over the years.
Riders on the Storm
Amid this emotional maelstrom, we spent some time this year honoring that history, and the results have been fabulous, including a fun alumni night in February, slide shows at lunch, and some fantastic documentaries by our film students.
In addition, we’re working to bring some of the distinctive ACMA wainscoting with us to serve as the front of the circulation desk in the library and the reception desk in the main office of the new campus, we’ve captured the murals that can’t be moved in photographs that will fill our temporary campus in the fall, and we have a deal with the movers that they’ll save all the painted doors on campus for us, which we’ll use as an installation art show in the fall of 2021.
And as we listened to students, staff, and alumni, we got to thinking, is there a way we could each take part of our school with us?
People are Strange
Those of us who know and love our school know that the exquisite strangeness of ACMA is something marvelous. Unconventional, creative, wildly iconoclastic, our school embraces looking at things divergently, and at their best the results can be fantastic.
That perspective led a few of us to start kicking around other ideas for how we might keep the spirit of C.E. Mason alive, and someone thought…
Hello, I Love You
We love our old building, and hate to see it go, and while we know we can’t save every corner, what if we kept that door of memory open by having something we could save, a little piece of at least, something to hold, something to take with us.
We looked around at what that something, or those somethings might be. Knowing that we have a talented group of stagecrafters, we headed out to the scene shop and ran an idea past some saw wielding techs.
Break on Through
We have these doors, we told them, robust, solid, and installed in the 1940s. What if we took a few of the doors that haven’t been made into canvases for our artists off their hinges and chopped them into cubes of ACMA that we could stamp and give away?
The students smiled and nodded to each other. “We could do that.”
…and so I have two boxes of ACMA in my office.
Some pieces of ACMA were given out at our ACMA Spectacular, others will go to 2019 graduates, still others will find their way onto desks and bookshelves, atop coffee tables and into dorm rooms, little reminders of a school we love.