Every museum step should count as two steps
Petah Coyne, "Untitled (Two halves of the same soul)." Random visitor obligingly posed for scale.
As folks say in my neighborhood, I feel some kind of way about the sacrifice of 26 beautiful peacocks to make this installation, but it was definitely breathtaking. As was the rest of the exhibition at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts' Landmark Building, Rising Sun: Artists in an Uncertain America. I am so intrigued by it that I plan to drop small dollars on an individual membership for the year. It has the advantage of being less than a block from the new Trader Joes with the wider aisles, so I can have a two-fer: spend time in the museum and then go buy cheap eggs.
Peacock close-up
The juxtaposition of highly contemporary art with architect Frank Furness's over-the-top high Victorian exuberance is wonderful, but nowhere is it more striking than in Saya Woolfalk's installation in the historic rotunda. They seem designed for one another and absolutely achieved the artist's ambition of creating a "secular chapel." In fact, the impetus of joining the museum is the opportunity to sit in contemplation of this, early and often.
Saya Woolfalk, "We Emerge at the Sunset of Your Ideology"
I did a very brief and not terribly good video to show the extent of the installation, which includes a bit of the soundtrack.
Click to viewBefore going to the Landmark Building, I stopped at the Hamilton Building to do some pick-up shots of three or four things I missed from Making American Artists. On the way to the ladies' room on what would have been my way out, I remembered there was a second floor and decided to explore. Whoa! Two large galleries devoted to the work of PAFA alum Philip Cohn. Never heard of him before, will never forget him.
Philip Cohn, "Afternoon at the Waterworks"
But wait: there's more! A huge gallery displayed Strange Sensations: The Startling and Surreal in PAFA’s Permanent Collection, with many compelling and often disturbing works. Many of them were covered in glass, and because of that did not lend themselves to photos (pesky reflections). Among those were a series of three Andy Warhols on the subject of the electric chair, which to be honest I didn't especially want to "accession" into my photo collection in any case. Here is one less disturbing, but plenty startling and surreal.
Kenneth Callahan, "The Tides"
I spent a total of five hours, less 15 minutes to eat a sandwich on a cold and windswept plaza, in the two buildings. The Hamilton exhibitions all close on Sunday, so I had a real compulsion to absorb all that goodness yesterday. My knees had Opinions about all that standing-around time, which they were voluble in sharing with me. I think I should get extra step credit for all that weight-bearing time. I was glad to have my walking stick, as I had become definitely tottery from the overuse.
The knees got less cranky and I regained my stride when I walked that less-than-a-block to Trader Joes for potatoes to bake with that chicken. Roy had done the rest of the vegetable prep, so I flang everything in a roasting pan, sprinkled cheap and salty southern-style poultry seasoning over all, stuck dinner in a 400° oven, and mostly sat on my rump for the rest of the evening.
Today is a day of minimal steps. I have clerical stuff to do all morning, a ZOOM meeting to attend this afternoon, and a quick run to the Triangles to pick up meds in between. Tomorrow looks wet, so it will be my baking-and-laundry day.
STATS: Morning weight: 150.4. Yesterday’s steps: 7,049, every one of them hard-won.