A glossy, ebony unicorn with gold horns, a gold tooth smile and chain to match, as the rainbow mane calls me to its magical attention. I couldn't wait to hop on.
That's the point: Derrick Adams wants you to play. When being unguarded, free to frolic, and letting joy lead is a rarity, bouncing on a unicorn might be unserious. But it's also sacred.
In the first survey of his career, Adams delivers “View Master.†With over 100 works spanning a quarter of a century, portions of the Institute of Contemporary Art have been transformed into portals of his mind. Pop culture, possibility, color, and community come together in splash upon splash of fun and wonder.
As we celebrate 20 years of the museum's waterfront home, this kind of invitation to indulge in delight is fitting.
The show starts before you even walk through the door. Free for public engagement is a trio of Adams' funtime unicorns.
Within the first hour of their debut on Tuesday morning, at least 20 passersby of all ages took a ride on the mythical creatures. Not a single toothy grin went unexpressed. The Seaport has soul indeed. This is joy in action. These are tools to refuel.
More than that, Adams creates a space of reclamation and representation. “View Master†is about how we see ourselves.
When you peer into an old school View-Master, your brain tricks your eyes so that two different images are transformed into a singular picture. W. E. B. Du Bois defined double consciousness as the way Black Americans are forced to see themselves through the gaze of oppressive power structures, which is inherently at war with our own self-perception.
While he did not invent the original View-Master, Charles Harrison, a Black man, is responsible for the 1959 redesign that informed the beloved toy we cherish. The poetry is not lost on Adams. In his 2025 painting and the show's namesake, “View Master,†not only do we see the iconic toy, Harrison's image is painted in the lenses. Above the eyes it reads: “Double-consciousness is the dual self-perception.â€
In this one image, Adams ensures we honor Harrison and Du Bois, and he names what it is to be the master of how one sees themselves, while acknowledging for Black Americans, wrestling with the two images is real. He does this with color, love, and cultural celebration.
“As a Black person, it's very important for us to highlight the multidimensionality of the Black experience, of the American experience,†Adams told me at his show.
“A lot of times, the successes we accomplish get overshadowed by the challenges. We can do both simultaneously. The fact that we are able to have moments of joy and resilience in the face of adversity is the reason why we need to celebrate those things.â€
He said this, standing in the center of a room in his show all about play. The walls are covered in images of children of all colors playing in Edgewood Park, a nod to the end of legal segregation in D.C. parks and pools on May 19, 1954. Just behind him are two paintings of people in party hats. To the left, a jaw-dropping good time in a painting of a Black man floating in a pool. Look down, and there is a bench Adams designed to look like a popsicle, specifically, a Bomb Pop.
He has two: one in red, white, and blue. Another is in red, black, and green. America and African-Americans. Everyone is welcome to cool down and take a seat.
“We don't think that being at a party is radical,†Adams said. “But it's radical because this whole other thing outside is working against you, and you are having a birthday party. This joyous time is just as radical and political as protest time.â€
This is the weight and wonder of Adams. He doesn't ignore the injustice. He names it and also lifts the beauty that we must protect. In his show, there are nods to the Black Panther Party and the Negro Motorist Green Book alongside images of home. From Diana Ross in “The Wiz†to “What's Happening†to Beyoncé to puffer coats and 8 Ball leather jackets, it feels very much like both a love letter and a sort of Afrofuturistic scrapbook for the culture. In many ways, each room of the show feels alive, like a TV show.
Whether you can pick out the references or not, any viewer will feel wrapped in whimsy. Adams's work makes you play.
“It is a time to challenge ourselves to really think about the goodness of us,†he told me.
That calling card to feel good isn't just in the show, or outside the front door with the funtime unicorns.
As you move along the curves of Harbor Shore Drive, before you even see the museum itself, you can see it reflecting off the glass buildings around it. It's as if the ICA is sending a signal.
For the first time in 20 years, the building wears a major facade: a bold and bright color bar by Adams, an homage to public media and TV. This, too, matters.
Developed by the Society of Motion Picture and Television Engineers to calibrate color TVs, it's a vivid nod to how media teaches us.
“Television was my first classroom,†Adams said in a statement. “…The color bars signal that something has been switched ‘on.' Wrapping the ICA's facade in this vibrant pattern sparks a necessary dialogue about representation in contemporary culture and the systems that shape how we see.â€
Radiant, joyful, provocative, important. These are the words Nora Burnett Abrams, Ellen Matilda Poss Director at the ICA, used to describe the color bar.
“It symbolizes a sense of possibility and excitement,†she told me. “The way that it is radiating out by reflecting on all the buildings as well as the water that surrounds us, it's creating this pulsing vibrant energy. That's a metaphor for what we do and our role in this city — radiating creativity, excitement, dynamism.”
What Derrick Adams does, in using play and pleasure, in consistently incorporating the color bar as a symbol of activation and representation, is also about presence.
“It's the practice of paying attention. It's a sense of living your life out loud and having a place that is encouraging of that.â€
And with that, we went off to ride the unicorns.
DERRICK ADAMS: VIEW MASTER
Through Sept. 7, Institute of Contemporary Art Boston, 25 Harbor Shore Drive. 617-478-3100, icaboston.org
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Jeneé Osterheldt can be reached at jenee.osterheldt@globe.com. Follow her @sincerelyjenee and on Instagram @abeautifulresistance.
