BOSTON

YOU CAN SPEND a lot of time in small, darkened rooms at Boston’s new Institute of Contemporary Art, and wish, on the whole, you were looking at the water.

Open since December, the building faces Boston Harbor, and thrusts like half of a U-shaped magnet into the bracing air. Liberal use has been made of glass. From the museum entrance to the café to a central elevator the size of a dorm room, glass allows shifting views of the waterfront. The day I visited, I watched a short film in the theater. Black screens had been pulled down over two of the theater’s walls, and these too are glass.

The theater unfurls from the third floor and occupies an imposing space in the center of the building. Banks of black track lights are exposed overhead. Polished concrete stairs and warm, pale-colored wood add to a Scandinavian sense of informality. The seats, upholstered in persimmon, are so inviting I longed to stay, and escape into a full-length feature. But there was more glass, and water, to take note of.

On the fourth, uppermost level, a narrow glassed-in space running the length of the galleries offers a panoramic view of the harbor. Finally, a space tucked like a gunner’s nest under the cantilevered fourth floor offers the most ingenious water view of all: at its far end, a window frames a horizonless glimpse of the waves. In this space, called the Mediatheque, visitors can log onto computers and learn about the museum collection.

Thanks to an adjustable skylight system that admits mellow natural light, the galleries, two long side-by-side spaces, have a calm, meditative feel. The small, darkened rooms mentioned above line the edges, and feature video pieces.

More than any medium I know of, video, at its worst, can make you ache to be elsewhere. At the ICA, the proximity of water puts such pieces to an almost sadistic test. But there you are.

Paul Chan’s seductive First Light, part of the permanent collection, casts a stream of delicate black shadows on the floor, with the mesmerizing effect of a magic lantern. Birds, a cable car, and the falling figure of a man tumble by, along with other, unidentifiable shapes. But then, in another dim chamber, there’s the woman pushing a teacup off the table in silent slow motion. I have not longed for the world so much since the days of educational filmstrips.

In the galleries, the ICA has focused mainly on painting, sculpture, photography and video works. The chief inaugural exhibit, “Super Vision,” offers examples of each, and explores the way technology is extending and altering the ways we see. Global satellite imagery, surveillance cameras and tiny lenses used to explore the orifices of the body all get their due. If the ideas are familiar, they make “Super Vision” a good starting point for future shows to build on.

Another exhibit, part of the ICA’s “Momentum” series, is a multi-media installation by Argentina-born Sergio Vega. His Tropicalounge explores conceptions of paradise as grafted onto Brazil. Bossa-nova recordings set the mood. A display of album covers includes the unavoidable Antonio Carlos Jobim; plastic fruit glows with kitschy pride; and the presiding deity is a parrot.

Tropicalounge makes it impossible not to think of the wintry blast just outside; at the same time, it rattles assumptions about just what we imagine we are heading for when we dream of a tropical escape.

A Yale-trained sculptor, Vega is more visual packrat than craftsman (and not, by a long shot, alone in this among contemporary sculptors). His ideas are a type of cultural criticism, but they leave the job of imposing form to the viewer. Before long, the waterfront beckons.

This would not surprise the ICA’s architects, the husband-and-wife-team of Elizabeth Diller and Ricardo Scofidio and their partner, Charles Renfro. From the outset, they knew the museum’s location would be both asset and liability. As they worked on possible designs, they tried to find ways of keeping it from drawing too much attention away from the art. Ultimately, they hoped to control rather than cancel the view.

On one crucial choice, they were overruled. The long glassed-in gallery (called the Founders’ Gallery) was to have been covered in lenticular film, which would have blurred peripheral vision. As a visitor walked its length, the gallery would function somewhat like a moving porthole.

But it was not to be. Boston Mayor Thomas Menino was among the first to bluntly insist on a panoramic view. ICA officials rejected the architects’ vision.

The ICA is an organic creation; people will develop habits of using it. I suspect that the longer it is open, the more visitors are bound to relax, and comfortably divide their attention between art and setting. But the art will have to fight for itself. In the end, the challenge of water may be good for it.

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An outstanding show of contemporary art is on view through May 6 at the New Bedford Art Museum. “Humanly Possible: Four Figurative Artists,” features drawing, painting and sculpture by Pamela Hoss, Laurie Kaplowitz, Anne Leone and Stacy Latt Savage. All are masters of technique and, somewhat daringly for contemporary artists, place the human form at the center of their work.

M.J. Andersen is a member of The Journal’s editorial board.