Arizona is a state of extremes: from alpine Flagstaff to desert-bound Tucson. From the Grand Canyon to the plains of the Mexican border. From tiny Seligman to bustling Phoenix. It is rich, diverse and authentic.
Tucson is home to the ghost of a painting. The original is now in the back of a rambling semi-trailer making its way, like me, to Boston for the Hopper retrospective show at the Museum of Fine Arts.
Hopper’s ‘House by a Road’ (1940), in the Arizona State University Art Museum, is exactly the type of boxy home which Frank Lloyd Wright was trying to replace with his homegrown architecture. The Victorian-era house is eerily open. Its windows are agape, their striped curtains fluttering in the breeze. The front door is wide open but affords no glimpse of the interior.
Oh to be rich and in Phoenix, down the road from Taliesin West.
Phoenix is a sprawl of suburbs, sand and cacti. Before air-conditioning, it was a small town. Now it hosts refugees from the Rust Belt, Bible Belt and Latin America.