The prim brick rowhouse at 410 Columbus Ave. in the South End looks these days like any other among its tony peers along an urbane promenade in the heart of one of the city’s most vibrant, and expensive, quarters. There is one notable difference: For almost 40 years until his death in 2007, this was home to Allan Rohan Crite.
A bronze plaque on its facade registers his significance in brief tribute: “Master Visual Artist, Painter, Printmaker, Author, Lecturer, Historian, and Good Neighbor.” It barely scratches the surface. So, this fall, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum and The Boston Athenaeum have teamed up for a cross-city celebration of Crite’s art, activism, and boundlessly generous spirit. “Urban Glory,” at the Gardner, delves into his unique fusion of art, community, and spiritual purpose, while “Griot of Boston,” at the Athenaeum, puts its focus on Crite’s priority, and passion, for the streets he called home — then the heart of the city’s Black community — and the people who gave them life. (A “griot,” in West Africa, is a storyteller.)
There is inevitable crossover, but you need to see both. Crite was devoted to Boston, his Boston, though this is the first time Boston has loved him back in equal measure. It’s sobering, indeed, that his moment finally comes as his Boston is now all but gone. But his pictures connect us both to the ruptures of massive, rapid urban change, its irrevocable costs, and the grace and joy to be found in its fractures.
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