Pretty Sparkly Things, and Bugs

On Saturday mornings I take an acting class downtown. Since I'm down there already, and at a pretty decent hour on a Saturday, no less, I have decided to see the city sights. That's what's up with all of the museum and monument posts. That, and I find that photo essays give me something to write about when I don't want to delve into the muck of my psyche at the moment.
My original plan was to start with the American History Museum and work my way around the National Mall, then spread out from there. I got a bit stuck between the Natural History museum and the art museums. That was the plan, but some days inspiration wants you to divert from the plan, which happened on my second week out.

I approach the museums from the east. As I passed the art museum, I thought, "it's damn cold outside, and I'd like to see some pretty things."

"But, you planned to go to the Natural History Museum," I argued. "Stick to plan! Science-y stuff today."

"No, pretty things!" I said.

"No, science-y things!" I argued back. At which point I remembered that the science museum has pretty things. Pretty, sparkly things. So, I could satisfy both my need to stick to a plan and my desire to see beauty.

Ironically, passing the art museum, I saw natural pretty things on it's exterior: The most famous sparkly, science-y thing at the Natural History museum is this:

There it is, in all its glory, and at about actual size. I last saw it in 1976, when I was about 8. My grandparents told my brother and I that it was the largest black diamond ever found. We were thrilled. "The thing must fill a room!" we told each other. "How many guards do you think it takes to watch it?" Honestly, I thought the thing would be the size of a boulder. You can imagine our disappointment to find something smaller than our hands, even at that age.

At the age of 41, my initial reaction was still, "damn, it's awfully small." That seemed to be the consensus of the people around me, too. You have to take a step back and think about the size of most diamonds that you actually do see. None of them come close to this size. Mentally adjusting to the scale of reality, this is a humongous diamond. Then, I read the text that explains its origins. The original rock came out of the ground at over twice this size. Knowing that the diamond used to be that much larger, and most of it was chipped away and lost, was sort of sad.

By the way, the second most common reaction to the diamond was, "it's so gaudy! I would never wear something like that." I don't think Harry Winston created the setting for everyday wear. I also don't think anyone would turn down the opportunity to wear it, either.

I wasn't disappointed to learn that the diamond is not cursed, and that the woman who last owned the diamond thought such stories were amusing and encouraged them.

The museum has a large collection of other pretty, sparkly things, too. Sapphires:

Emeralds:

Pearls:
And many more, but the pictures don't come out too well between the low level lighting, the jostling of the five gazillion kids, and the glare from the glass.

Some of the more fascinating and beautiful exhibits in that section of the museum were not necessarily sparkly. This is the largest, flawless crystal ball in the world (according to the sign):

The ball truly is large. Think of your standard, archetypal image of a gypsy fortuneteller looking into a crystal ball. Think of how large the ball is in that picture. Now, double, even triple the size. Massive! As you gaze into it, your eyes cannot focus on anything, so you give up and relax. I can see where it could be used in mediation.

This is a huge piece of sandstone, about three or four feet tall:

I first thought is was some sort of modern sculpture. The base rotates, allowing you to see all sides. That lighting also enhances the bulbous quality of its shape.

This is a section of a gigantic piece of copper, the largest ever pulled out of the earth whole. The dark lines are the graphite that still clings to it:

Again, I thought this was some sort of sculpture, stretching about 6 or 7 feet across and about 5 feet high, or more. (Actually, I suck at judging size -- shut up! -- so just take my measurements as being a stab at credibility in saying that these were all very large.)

After wandering through all of the rocks that form on, under, and above the earth (I touched a piece of Mars -- whoohoo!) I decided to look at some of the other exhbits in the museum.

I found this massive stuffed snake:

Again with the bigness. This snake, if it were alive, could have swallowed me whole and not shown the bump of my form, that's how long and thick it was.

Since the museum had exhibits of creepy crawlers, I decided to look for spiders among the bugs. My autistic nephew loves spiders, so I wanted to shower him with photos of them. Instead, I found that the museum indulges in bug porn, which I naturally share with you:Yep. That's two bugs Doin' It. Not too far from their food, either. I guess some bugs are into that. Of course, they also don't seem to mind Doin' It or eating near their dead, either:

The second from the right is belly up, as were a few more of the beetles in this exhibit.

I rather like science museums. Since I don't do math (really, I don't -- it could be a disability), I always steered away from too many science courses beyond the requisite. Going to science museums is rather like returning to elementary school, back when science was new and fun. In these museums, I'm out of my element, and everything is fresh to me.

There is another reason to like science museums, too. In the past near decade, as science itself has come under attack, they've felt the controversy. Nonetheless, they do not bow to ignorance. They do not "teach the controversy," they do not tone down evolution or global warming from their curriculum. They embrace it:

Even in the bookstore. This one was in the "curators' picks" section:

They will even take the science down a notch:

That is science-y and downright beautiful.

Look! It's Me

"La Coiffure," by Henri Matisse:

"After the Haircut (Self-portrait)," by Clio Bluestocking:

"Quilting Men" Artists at the National Galleries of Art

Perhaps because I had just finished my post on the Obama Quilt exhibit the day before I continued to see images of quilts when I visited the National Gallery of Art (east wing) and the National Portrait Gallery on Saturday. For those who don't know -- and I didn't, but was pleasantly surprised to discover -- the East Wing of the NGA has most of the contemporary work, and the National Portrait Gallery contains exhibits that are decidedly not portraits.

While the quilters seemed to paint, and sometimes even sculpt, in fabric, in these works, the artists seemed to quilt in paint and other media.

This piece has an embedded explanation that I completely did not understand. I confess that I did not write down the artist or title (although I have seen his work before). You can see the manipulation of color in both the numbers and the squares for each section and across each section:

This one, by Lloyd Schermer, hangs in the conservation wing of the National Portrait Gallery. It is called "An American Puzzle." Those are all printer's blocks:

Jean Dubuffet, "Les Rondes des Images":

The patches in that painting seem to invoke different styles or schools of art (not that I would know, that just seems to be the case), much as a collaborative quilt or a crazy quilt will used different patterns and use different styles of quilting.

Korean artist Nam June Paik created this installation, which is a wall of television sets that create this ever changing collage of images, some repeated over and over in each screen, and some that use several screen to create a larger image. You have to sit in the room to get the full, overwhelming impact:

An ever changing quilt of televisions. This same artist also has a fascinating installation of televisions and neon, creating a map of the U.S.; but that is for another post.

I doubt that any of these artists, all male, would claim the quilt as an influence upon their work. They would probable point to the impressionists, or the abstract expressionists, or cubists, or, most likely collages as their visual language. The abstract expressionists, with their contemplation of fields of color, and the cubists, who collapsed three dimensions into two could fall into the same category. Nonetheless, I see the quilters as working in this same language, if a more feminine and folk art dialect.

That would, of course, lead us into a discussion of the representation of women in art museums as both subject (or would that be "object") and artist, a bigger and more infuriating subject. Meanwhile, I like to indulge in a bit of romanticism and think of all of the quilting women as cousins to the "scribbling women," pouring their creativity and skill into everyday items to bring something new and original -- and, in their cases, necessary to survival -- into being.

Then and Now: National Gallery of Art

"West Building Constitution Avenue entrance viewed from Sixth Street, 1941":

"West Building Constitution Avenue entrance viewed from Sixth Street," 2009 (February 21):

The top picture forms part of an exhibit on the contruction of both the East and West buildings of the National Gallery of Art, which I found fascinating because of the views that they gave of the changes in the surrounding landscape, such as this:

Sadly, the exhibit appears in the hallway between the east entrance of the West Building and the gift shop. That's a heavy traffic area, but not a particularly wide area, so people cruise on by, mowing down the one history geek who wants to enjoy the exhibit (and who also seems to be invisible, even as bypassers run right into her). Still, I wish all of the museums had such exhibits, not matter the size or location in the building. They show the history of a place, even if that space is not devoted specifically to history.

On the Streets

On Saturday, walking along Constitution Avenue, I heard the phangom beat of drums. Outside of the Sculpture Garden, I found the source:

Those are big paint tubs of various sizes, stacked in various thicknesses, and a garbage can sitting on traffic cones. He used sawed off broom handles as sticks, and would tap on parts of the grocery buggy to substitute for chimes and cymbals. He kept a steady, powerful beat for as long as I heard him, which was for approximately 15 minutes.

See the little guy down front? He started to get his three-year-old groove on. Then, he found himself some sticks from one of the trees and joined in.

The drummer engaged eye contact and was showing him tips on how to get his body into the rhythm. The little guy wasn't bad.

What Should Obama Read?

Historiann has tagged me with a rather difficult meme: "Books to Gift the President." Not only is it difficult a difficult meme, but it is also humiliating because, despite my PhD status, and despite my high score on the BBC list, my undergraduate status as an English major, and my weekly immersion in the work of Shakespeare, I generally have the sort of reading tastes that wouldn't benefit as intelligent a president as we now have. I don't read about politics, and he probably wouldn't get much out of whatever mystery sits on my end table (Tana French's The Likeness, if you are interested) or out of Toni Morrison's Mercy (the last fiction book that I finished). I also doubt that he would have much practical use for Annette Gordon-Reed's The Hemings of Monticello, or Sarah Johnson's Mount Vernon, or Domesticating History. Or, rather, any benefit that would come out of reading such books would require too long of an explanation to make the reading worthwhile.

In any case, we soldier on in our general ignorance because it is an honor to be nominated. Or tagged.

What should Obama read?

1) The Scottish Play and King Lear, by William Shakespeare (Two for one because neither are books). Actually, I recommend a study of Shakespeare's entire oeuvre, but these two will suffice in the meantime. The first shows how one little nasty act, one you think won't really matter because the payoff will be so great, can lead to another nasty act, and another, and another, until you yourself are destroyed. The second warns against the tragic effects of vanity.

Also, several local companies will be putting on productions of Lear in the next couple of years, so he can show his support of the arts directly by attending one. Heck, he could even support a bill to support more funding for the arts, as well. The arts actually employee a significant number of people beyond those on the stage, so funding for the arts would be a little stimulus on its own. Also, if you can help theaters or museums lower ticket prices, more people might patronize these arts, become educated, demand more from their entertainment, and return often. See? Trickle down! (No, I haven't hit the wine yet this evening.)

2) I have to second Historiann's suggestion of Robert Caro's biographies of Lyndon B. Johnson. LBJ was a master politician of the "kick ass and take names" variety. It wasn't pretty, but it was effective. He knew how to lead a party of the opposition right into power and hold it. At the same time, although not covered in the series, LBJ also serves as a cautionary tale about continued commitment in a quagmire of a war. All of that political capital can be pissed away in an unpopular, ultimately pointless war.

3) Blanche Wiesen Cook's biographies of Eleanor Roosevelt, preferably the second volume. Eleanor could work her way through power, too. She also had a social conscience and an awareness of various different disaffected people, including the ways that the New Deal continued to disaffect them. By necessity, he will learn a bit about FDR's tactis, as well.

Really, Obama should read anything on women's history and gay rights. He may be black, but he is a straight man and that means that he sometimes forgets that the world does not revolve around him (I myself have to be knocked off center from time to time), that women's issues and gay issues are HUMAN and AMERICAN issues. We are a constituency, and we are damn sick of being asked to take the crumbs because this seems to be the best we can do. Put your library card where your mouth is, Obama, and be our president, too.

If he doesn't have time for a book, maybe a poem would do: "The Strong Black Woman is Dead," from Womanist Musings. Obama had gotten a lot of mileage off of the strong black women in his life -- and a white one or two, as well. He might want to take a moment to ponder the implications of that for those women.

4) Our president might also try Marriage, A History, by Stephanie Coontz. He would learn that marriage was not always this companionate union of love and bliss that we get sold these days. People once married in much the same way that we make business contracts or political deals today. Being a lawyer, he might appreciate the neatness of the contract approach, quit being such a coward over gay marriage and find some solid arguments to shift the ground under the "family values" rhetoric. That might lead to a whole new set of policies regarding the rights of gays, reproductive rights of women, and status of children. (No, the Rastafarians who live below me have not sparked up.)

5) God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. Don't burn me at the stake for this one. I'm not trying to disabuse Obama of his faith or convert him to atheism or anything of that sort. I would just like him to realize that not everyone is Christian or religious or holds a belief in a higher power. Many of us would feel more comfortable if he stuck to that separation of church and state, and removed such formalities as homophobic ministers or prayers or invocations of Our Lord and Savior from political discourse. Once God enters the picture, all reason has gone. Again, be our president, too.

6) Nickle and Dimed, by Barbara Ehrenreich. I'm sure he must have read it, or be aware of it. Even if he has, he might want to take a dip back into an account of life on minimum wage. The economy or the country ain't all about the "middle class," you know.

7) BONUS: Clio Bluestocking Tales' Online Museum of Historical Kitsch -- you know, once it is published in book form. He might like a little laugh over the chapter devoted to Obama crap.

He might even want to visit some of the museum gift shops that sell these items. Then, he might want to look around the museum. He might even get the idea that he could support a bill to fund the humanities so such museums, regardless of the contents of their gift shops, could continue to educate the public. He might even realize that the museums also rely upon the research of academics in universities and colleges, so he might want to sponsor bills to fund more faculty positions. That would get all of these academics, under or unemployed, out of whatever job that they are doing to make ends meet, thereby freeing that job up for someone else. They might not have to commute five billion miles between jobs everyday, thereby cutting down on gas use and emissions. They could afford to buy houses....see, again, a nice little stimulus package on its own. (Again, no wine, no second-hand doobage).

Obama Quilts

Last weekend, I went to an opening for an odd exhibit. Quilters from across the country paid tribute to the election of Barack Obama by piecing quilts. While some of the quilts might have fit on a bed, most were baby blanket sized or smaller. All of them were a unique expression of the quilter's impressions of the Obama phenomena.*

Some quilters had a literal interpretation, sewing portraits of Obama:

The image on the top quilt was rendered in the type of bead work that you see in Native American textiles.

Other quilters drew upon the iconography of the campaign:

Those two also made reference to Obama's African heritage. The first in its use of colors and Kinte cloth, and the second with the African huts, also rendered in Kinte cloth. The top one also includes a quote from Gandhi, repeated frequently throughout the exhibit, "We must be the change that we want to see in the world."

In this set, you see reference to Obama as the 44th president:

The background on the big "44" contains text explaining the numerological importance of the number forty-four. The small one in the upper right corner makes reference not only to the Obama logo, but also the constant invocation of "Main St." The position of the Obama logo suggest that sun is rising (or setting, depending on whom you ask) on "Main St." (By the way, the use of "Main St." as a short hand for "the average American" seems a bit inappropriate since "Main St." usually has businesses, not homes. But, I digress.)

Other quilters took the literal image a step further and incorporated elements of popular culture and Pop Art...:..including the ubiquitous take on Warhol's Marilyn portrait:The middle Obama in this take was rendered in holograph:

This one includes some unexpected elements:

You can see the red curtain, and the purple mass in the lower right corner is the front of a shirt. At the top and bottom corners on the left side of the portraits, the artist has sewn a tiny set of boxing gloves and a purple ear, along with some large bone buttons:

You can also see, tucked in behind the ear, another reference to Kinte cloth. I'm not sure the meaning of the tape measure, except as a reference to her own work as a seamstress or as a suggestion of "the measure of a man." Her explanation of this piece was that it was red and blue come together in a "glorious" purple. If I connected the right quilter with the right piece, the artist wore a bright red hat with a big red rose on top.

This quilter made a reference to funk music: Not so much in the image as in the text around the image, where she quoted George Clinton's Chocolate City (which includes D.C. -- and go on and click the link so you can groove for the rest of the post), "They still call it the White House, but that's a temporary condition, you dig?" She said that her son digs funk, and had posted it on his blog on the day after the election. She thought it was perfect, and included it in her contribution to this exhibit. I'm not sure about the figure. I like think that is supposed to be an Afro, or maybe what she sees when she hears funk music.

This image took me a few passes to figure out:

The seated figure looks very much like the statue, "Liberty," that tops the U.S. Capitol (this is a reproduction in the Visitor's Center...:...but I couldn't imagine why bats would be flying about her. Then I noticed that the bird sitting on the open box in front of Liberty had "Hope" embroidered on it's side. "Ah-hah!" I said, "Pandora!" Liberty represents Pandora, and all of the bats were the sins released upon the world, but at the bottom of the box she found hope.

Other quilters made explicit statements about patriotism, rebutting charges that Obama and his supporters were a threat to the U.S.:This one includes copies of pictures and documents referring to her African American parents' and grandparents' service in the military, as well as historic headlines and a flier for the "March on Washington":

This one includes not only campaign iconography and patriotic colors, but statements of protest, as well.:The white patches include images referring to Iraq, Abu Ghraib, No Child Left Behind and the economic crisis.

As with the military service quilt, this one made another historic reference, and as with the one above, it also made reference to the concept of dissent:

At first glance, you may not see the patriotic reference in this one:

The curators had to hang it sideways because the space didn't have a big enough chunk of wall to hang it correctly. How about turned this way?

See the interpretation of the American flag? Not just in the bottom row, but in the quilted stripes and the collection of stars in the upper left corner?

Other quilters took a more abstract route:

The second quilted words from Obama's speeches into the fabric:
Other quilters looked to the theme of "family." Here we have a quilt dedicated to images of the women in Obama's life, showing pictures of Obama with his grandmothers, mother, wife, and daughters:
Again, you see African influences in some of the fabric choices.

In this series of quilts, the families depicted are not Obama's, but the quilters':

In these pieces, the quilter seems to say that Obama's election gives hope to their children.

Then, of course, representation for the dogs:

A poor, skinny pooch dreams of a happy home with the Obama girls.

This quilt was the product of a group effort and reflects the tradition of the friendship quilt:

Each quilter pieced one square that became part of the whole. You can see similar themes in this as in the rest of the show, with the Warholesque square and the flag square, and the Obama and icon square. You also see different, traditional quilt patterns, such as the crazy quilt and others that I recognize but can't name.

While many invoked the concept of peace and global unity, this one had a particular hippie vibe with the batik dye, the third eye, and the metaphor of pie (mmmmm, pie!):

Others looked, probably with more hope than the others, to an expansion of civil rights. This one, donated by New Mexico (I think) quilters, includes many elements, including Mexican images, Spanish language quotations, and the names of many civil rights leaders.

This quilt also included this explicit message throughout:
Another, across the gallery, carried a similar message:
The opening in the "O" contains the text of Obama's acceptance speech:

That one little reference offered that one glimmer of hope that sustains many oppressed people in some very dark times. I wrote that these quilters expressed more hope than the others. I write "more" because Obama has given homosexual people so little for which to hope. Hope, understand, is not "anticipation," nor "expectation," nor anything else other than that ephemeral, unsubstantiated wish that something will change for the better. Hope.

But, of course, we all want that: some better world than the one we have now and will probably have for a long time to come. We all want relief. We all want our massive resources used for good and not evil, to help and not hurt. This exhibit left me sad. So much poured into these quilts by their makers, yet things in the capital not going smoothly nor quickly nor as broadly for any satisfaction, and the ugly wing of the Republican party feeling that it has relevance once more and spewing its hate on the airwaves. In other words, as the euphoria of the election and inauguration passes, the reality of politics sets in. Obama the Phenomena (made mostly of projections) is so much bigger than Obama the President could ever be.

Finally, I must say something about the craft involved in many of these quilts. Whatever you feel about their content, the technical skill of these women is astounding in their use of a sewing machine and scraps of fabric to create texture, depth, and meaning out of something so mundane as cloth. They were painting in textiles, just as women have for centuries, and thus worked in a feminine medium to take ordinary materials and create something meaningful.

*Mercifully, none referenced the Underground Railroad!

ETA: The exhibition that I've described in this post is at the art gallery at my college. There seems to be another Obama Quilt exhibition at the Historical Society of Washington, D.C.