Carol Forbes Bastelier

I grew up in a Museum! Yes I did! My grandparents lived across trolley-filled Huntington Avenue in Boston, Mass., facing that noble bronze Indian sculpture at the entrance to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (BMFA). As kids, my sister and I used to play “Let’s Pretend” for many hours in the cavernous marble vaults that held amazing and stunning art from all over the world. It was a visual feast never to be forgotten.

Later, when I graduated from the University of Michigan, I was lucky to land a job at the BMFA in the then-fledgling Research Department as a technical writer. The mission was to use state of the art science (1961) to authenticate fine art objects. Mummies were unwrapped, hypodermic needles were stuck in “The Old Masters” paintings, x-rays taken, and other “assaults” performed on fine art objects in the name of science. Spectroscopy, radiology and archeological chemistry were pioneer sciences in the art world.

Meanwhile, I took classes at night at the BMFA Art School across the street. My Master’s thesis at Boston University was a (still unfinished) journey into teaching history through art. Since then, I have been “dabbling” with the arts while raising a family, teaching, and moving to California.

On my annual trips back to Boston, I religiously hop on MTA trolley and salute that noble Indian, arms outstretched astride his weary horse, and again play “Let’s Pretend” beneath the Masters’ portraits. Occasionally, I think I see one of the portraits or sculptures casting a glance of consternation at me or shaking a warning finger. Nevertheless, I continue to “dabble”.