Someone at a desk somewhere had an idea. An almost brilliant idea.
There are a handful of nomadic circuses that still carry their tents with them, celebrating the size and intimacy of the tent in an age accustomed to the scale of the arena. And there are very few places in the modern city where you can really erect a large tent-- most of them parking lots.
And then there's City Hall Plaza, the blank and anonymous space that was presumed to be just the kind of public gathering space needed for a city that does not gather. City Hall leans over it all, its inverted floors trying to anchor the place through a gesture even its muscular concrete can't support.
In this sad, city center someone thought to erect a tent. Something ephemeral, colorful, and whimsical. The idea makes me smile-- that something so light might be just the thing to bring the plaza to life.
So I was disappointed to skirt the chain link fences, truck generators, and plastic tarps to capture views of the tent up against City Hall. There is so much stuff that comes with the circus, it's baggage, that the big, blue tent shrank into the background. There were no signs of animals, adding to the sterility of circus. There were no rewards for the curious. There wasn't the trunk of an elephant sliding around a corner or even a half-dressed clown. There were no sounds at all beyond the constant traffic along Cambridge Street.
That it was all handled so badly, a temporary real estate deal made between the mayor's office and circus administrators, brings out my cynicism-- enhanced by today's gray weather and biting wind. Boston's major public space, even an unsuccessful one, was given away so that money might be made. And not enough was given in return. And somehow, I do think that had just a little bit of design attention been paid to the placement of the tent, something really wonderful might have happened. The circus would be in the center of the city. It could look like more than a construction site-- something already too familiar in Boston-- and like something truly surprising. This evening in Back Bay I saw that cherry trees were blooming, and that tiny bit of color, so unexpected, cracked me awake. It's that kind of surprise I think we should look for, and maybe, even demand. I wish the mayor might be expected to stun the city by filling the void in front of his office at least once each term. The circus should be in the center of the city. It's just not there yet.
