Art, art, Architecture, and music
Another too-long delay between posts. Sigh. How on earth to balance between doing something to write about and having time to write? It’s kind of like working overtime so you have extra money but then not having time to enjoy it.
I had a plan for the last week or two. See, now, that may have been the problem. Nia, for one, says that “plan” is a four-letter word and the mere existence of a plan means that it will fail. (Sounds like some of that really advanced Physics, about stuff not existing unless you look at it….) Anyway, I decided that I would try to have Gisele’s AoA scroll done by Crown, and to encourage that goal I planned to stay with her in DC and day trip Crown. This plan expanded, as plans are wont to do, to include an extra day or two in DC for me to see a museum or two. By the beginning of the week it was obvious that the scroll would not be done in time, but I was still trying to balance getting more done and having time in DC. I haven’t spent any time there seeing museums since I was in high school, and believe me, I wasn’t really looking at the exhibits then, so I figured I had plenty to see.
I wound up driving up on Thursday so I’d have all day Friday to amuse myself, and then Gisele and I could go to Crown on Saturday. Uh-huh. I amused myself, alright. I trekked from one end of the Mall to the other as fast as my short little legs would carry me, so as not to waste time that I could be spending in gape-jawed joy, looking at one thing or another. I am interested in so many things…. What to do, and which to do first? I considered Natural Sciences or Air and Space, but was rapidly dissuaded when confronted with all the rug rats that were waiting in lines to get in. I was feeling fine when I left Gigi’s Friday AM, but by the time I was halfway down the Mall I had a dull ache behind my eyes and was seeing double. A disconcerting feeling, that. That made the idea of sharing huge echoing spaces with screaming kids even less enticing.
The walk was long enough, and the migraine hit hard enough that I found myself musing on All in My Head by Paula Kamen, a book about living with chronic pain and disability. She makes the point that no one wants to see themselves as being disabled, and lord knows that’s true. Getting cross-eyed sick from just walking, and not even on a sunny day… well, hrm… maybe this isn’t so exaggerated after all. Crap.
Herein follows a description of the rest of weekend, including comments on Art and Architecture. (Please note the caps. Heh.) I decided I had to see the new Museum for the American Indian, though; I’ve read so much about the building and I had to see it. I mean, I am an architect, after all, so I really might oughta pay attention to buildings every now and again. It is a sensuously curving building; quite a departure from the other architecture on the mall, so there has obviously been some discussion about its form and how dare they put that on the Mall, anyway? Plus, there seem to have been rather more than the usual tensions between the designer and client. Gee. Wonder why I really would rather stay home and paint? I did really like the building, though I agree with the critical comment that it “crowds its site.”
I also cruised through the sculpture garden at the Hirshhorn Museum. Last Conversation Piece is the work that really stuck in my mind. It’s haunting, actually. From a distance, it looked whimsical and amusing, a group of figures that seemed to be playing, and somehow reminded me of the quick sketch figures we used in architecture school to represent people. The closer I got, however, the more disturbing they got. When I got close to them I could see that the “faces” were only suggested; unformed and yet menacing. That alone changed what seemed playful into threat. Spooky. I had a strong approach/avoidance reaction; I wanted to get closer and see the work better, (that mental “Keep off the Grass” sign kicked in, though) but I also wanted to get away. It was very strange.
Despite the best efforts of my architecture school teachers, the East Building of the National Gallery of Art didn’t make me any happier. I. M. Pei is just not going to be a fave of mine-- I am much too fond of detail work and variety of scale, and he doesn’t seem to have been introduced to those concepts. It unfortunately reminds me of Mussolini’s Fascist architecture. I didn’t take the time I should have, I guess, if I really wanted to appreciate the building. I just wasn’t up to it.
There was a small but enjoyable exhibit of Fauvists there (mainly Matisse) that gave me a further insight into my artistic vision, I guess you’d call it. I’ve always enjoyed Matisse’s work, but it wasn’t till Friday that I realized I appreciate his use of patterns as much as the colors. My enjoyment of this made me realize how much it reminded me of the Persian paintings on which I based Benefse’s Pelican scroll. And gee, some of this looks a lot like diapering. (For you non-scribal types, diapering is the name for that stuff in the background… you know, the thing the scribe did over and over and over, like changing diapers. I don’t know the real source of the name, but I’ve sure never had any trouble remembering it that way. Heh.)
Fortunately, I had a much more pleasant time at the West Building. Once I found the Italian Ren galleries, I was set for the rest of the day. Well, okay, it’s probably a good thing I was happy to stay there, because every time I tried to get out or find a women’s room or something I got lost. Other than that, it was great. And by the end of the afternoon, I had deciphered their visual cues and was able (more or less) to get where I needed to be without getting lost too badly.
I was totally fried by the time I met Gigi for the Metro ride back to her place. I think that, by the end of the day, I had maybe sat down for an hour during the entire day, and I felt like it, too. When we got home, Gigi suggested a long hot soak with some bath salts, and I agreed. This has to count as one of my infamous re-discoveries. People have raved about the pleasure of soaking, but I confess it had always escaped me. Ahhhhh. No longer. I swear, if it weren’t for that soak I might not have been able to move again for days. Instead, we went to a dinner party at her friend’s house, and I felt good enough to enjoy staying up late, meeting new people. Wheee! Quite the party animal. Heh.
Even the long soak didn’t enable me to pop out of bed bright and early Saturday morning, though. By then we had already admitted we were going to skip Crown in favor of sightseeing. Ha. Sightseeing, too, went by the wayside in favor of sleeping in and spending a glorious day of girly talk and doing nothing serious at all. Loverly, I tell you.
I’m putting some serious thought into starting a business selling prints, cards, etc, of stuff I paint, and we talked about that for a long time. It’s such a help to get ideas from a variety of sources, especially since I am so unfamiliar with things like E-bay. If I don’t have money to spend, or unless I want/need something specific, I don’t see the point of cruising around looking at stuff I can’t afford. This may be good for my budget but it doesn’t give me a lot of background information I now find myself needing. Fortunately, others have been willing to help me out with lots of suggestions. I have so much research to do. What a learning curve I have ahead of me!
Sunday was another sleep-in day, though I woke up much earlier than I did on Saturday. We ate breakfast, watched a movie, gabbed some more, and I came home mid-afternoon. The drive wasn’t bad, except for the glorious sunshine that half blinded me. God, I hate being such a grinch about something I’ve always loved so much. I’ve noticed, though, that even (especially?) if I don’t get outside IN the sunshine, I’m more cheerful in sunny weather than cloudy.
Monday saw me discover downloading music. Lest some vigilante decide that I’m a hazard to the future of the music industry, I’ll say in my own defense that I was looking for songs from Mean Mothers: Independent Women’s Blues featuring women singers of the ‘30’s and ‘40’s, which has only been released on vinyl. I was hoping to find higher quality versions than what I’ll be able to get if I can have my old beat-up tape put on a CD. Alas, of the 15 songs on the album, I could only find One Hour Mama by Ida Cox. (“I’m a one-hour mama/ and no one minute papa/ ain’t the kinda man for me/ Set your ‘larm clock, papa/ one hour that’s proper/ and love me like I’d like to be….” There’s also a great line about a (soldier?) going to war …”with a load of big artillery/ but he don’t know what it’s for….” The song … erm… covers the subject rather nicely.) It is my favorite, but I am disappointed that I couldn’t find some of my other favorites too. Like Bertha Idaho singing, “I don’t care where you take it, sweet papa, just move it on outa here./ I mean, get yourself some atmosphere.” Or Harlem Hannah singing “Keep your nose outa mama’s business or you will get yourself in bad /If you don’t stay outa mama’s business someday you’re gonna wish you had…”
Amy recommended LimeWire as a search and download tool, and I’m loving it. Using the “browse host” feature put me onto Victoria Spivey, and I’d never heard of her. More great stuff. Much music happiness has ensued. I’ve mentioned Taj Mahal’s Cakewalk into Town (“I had the blues so bad one time/ It put my face in a permanent frown/ but I been feelin’ so much better I could cakewalk into town/ I woke up this morning feelin’ so good/ I laid back down again/ Throw your big leg over me, mama/ I might not feel this good again.” And another line about “stealin’chickens from the rich folks’ yard.”) I’d heard of Taj Mahal, but this was the only song I knew, and I was reluctant to buy a CD with no more information than that, at least not right now. I got several songs by him, and more by him and Ry Cooder, and now I’ll definitely plan to buy lots by him-as soon as I can afford to buy lots of anything.
Something that I’ve really realized more strongly than I suspected is that I seem to be approaching that line between Extrovert and Introvert, if I haven’t already crossed it and left it in the dust. If I don’t get plenty of alone-time, I get pretty damn cranky. Lately I’ve been in a really good mood and have been very productive, but damn. I was feeling stressed on Monday when Tuneless Boy upstairs started “playing” and “singing.” Believe me, I use those terms advisedly. Historically, I’ve been indulgently amused (though catty) about his lack of skill, and even admired him for enjoying himself so much and trying so hard. Monday I had no such tolerance. I had to leave the studio, because he practices directly above that room. I had plenty of work to do in other rooms, but I kept sticking my head in the door, hoping he’d follow his usual pattern and only play for about 5 minutes. Nope, he picked Monday to have a longer attention span than usual. His current fave seems to be Bob Dylan. You might think that would give him an advantage, since Dylan can’t sing either and many of his songs tend to be rather tuneless. Nope, he just sounds downright drunk and wanders ever farther off whatever passes for a tune. “It ain’t pretty” doesn’t begin to cover this subject. Wow.
Well, that pretty much brings me up to date on what’s happened in the last few days. Now to go out and do more stuff to write about.
I had a plan for the last week or two. See, now, that may have been the problem. Nia, for one, says that “plan” is a four-letter word and the mere existence of a plan means that it will fail. (Sounds like some of that really advanced Physics, about stuff not existing unless you look at it….) Anyway, I decided that I would try to have Gisele’s AoA scroll done by Crown, and to encourage that goal I planned to stay with her in DC and day trip Crown. This plan expanded, as plans are wont to do, to include an extra day or two in DC for me to see a museum or two. By the beginning of the week it was obvious that the scroll would not be done in time, but I was still trying to balance getting more done and having time in DC. I haven’t spent any time there seeing museums since I was in high school, and believe me, I wasn’t really looking at the exhibits then, so I figured I had plenty to see.
I wound up driving up on Thursday so I’d have all day Friday to amuse myself, and then Gisele and I could go to Crown on Saturday. Uh-huh. I amused myself, alright. I trekked from one end of the Mall to the other as fast as my short little legs would carry me, so as not to waste time that I could be spending in gape-jawed joy, looking at one thing or another. I am interested in so many things…. What to do, and which to do first? I considered Natural Sciences or Air and Space, but was rapidly dissuaded when confronted with all the rug rats that were waiting in lines to get in. I was feeling fine when I left Gigi’s Friday AM, but by the time I was halfway down the Mall I had a dull ache behind my eyes and was seeing double. A disconcerting feeling, that. That made the idea of sharing huge echoing spaces with screaming kids even less enticing.
The walk was long enough, and the migraine hit hard enough that I found myself musing on All in My Head by Paula Kamen, a book about living with chronic pain and disability. She makes the point that no one wants to see themselves as being disabled, and lord knows that’s true. Getting cross-eyed sick from just walking, and not even on a sunny day… well, hrm… maybe this isn’t so exaggerated after all. Crap.
Herein follows a description of the rest of weekend, including comments on Art and Architecture. (Please note the caps. Heh.) I decided I had to see the new Museum for the American Indian, though; I’ve read so much about the building and I had to see it. I mean, I am an architect, after all, so I really might oughta pay attention to buildings every now and again. It is a sensuously curving building; quite a departure from the other architecture on the mall, so there has obviously been some discussion about its form and how dare they put that on the Mall, anyway? Plus, there seem to have been rather more than the usual tensions between the designer and client. Gee. Wonder why I really would rather stay home and paint? I did really like the building, though I agree with the critical comment that it “crowds its site.”
I also cruised through the sculpture garden at the Hirshhorn Museum. Last Conversation Piece is the work that really stuck in my mind. It’s haunting, actually. From a distance, it looked whimsical and amusing, a group of figures that seemed to be playing, and somehow reminded me of the quick sketch figures we used in architecture school to represent people. The closer I got, however, the more disturbing they got. When I got close to them I could see that the “faces” were only suggested; unformed and yet menacing. That alone changed what seemed playful into threat. Spooky. I had a strong approach/avoidance reaction; I wanted to get closer and see the work better, (that mental “Keep off the Grass” sign kicked in, though) but I also wanted to get away. It was very strange.
Despite the best efforts of my architecture school teachers, the East Building of the National Gallery of Art didn’t make me any happier. I. M. Pei is just not going to be a fave of mine-- I am much too fond of detail work and variety of scale, and he doesn’t seem to have been introduced to those concepts. It unfortunately reminds me of Mussolini’s Fascist architecture. I didn’t take the time I should have, I guess, if I really wanted to appreciate the building. I just wasn’t up to it.
There was a small but enjoyable exhibit of Fauvists there (mainly Matisse) that gave me a further insight into my artistic vision, I guess you’d call it. I’ve always enjoyed Matisse’s work, but it wasn’t till Friday that I realized I appreciate his use of patterns as much as the colors. My enjoyment of this made me realize how much it reminded me of the Persian paintings on which I based Benefse’s Pelican scroll. And gee, some of this looks a lot like diapering. (For you non-scribal types, diapering is the name for that stuff in the background… you know, the thing the scribe did over and over and over, like changing diapers. I don’t know the real source of the name, but I’ve sure never had any trouble remembering it that way. Heh.)
Fortunately, I had a much more pleasant time at the West Building. Once I found the Italian Ren galleries, I was set for the rest of the day. Well, okay, it’s probably a good thing I was happy to stay there, because every time I tried to get out or find a women’s room or something I got lost. Other than that, it was great. And by the end of the afternoon, I had deciphered their visual cues and was able (more or less) to get where I needed to be without getting lost too badly.
I was totally fried by the time I met Gigi for the Metro ride back to her place. I think that, by the end of the day, I had maybe sat down for an hour during the entire day, and I felt like it, too. When we got home, Gigi suggested a long hot soak with some bath salts, and I agreed. This has to count as one of my infamous re-discoveries. People have raved about the pleasure of soaking, but I confess it had always escaped me. Ahhhhh. No longer. I swear, if it weren’t for that soak I might not have been able to move again for days. Instead, we went to a dinner party at her friend’s house, and I felt good enough to enjoy staying up late, meeting new people. Wheee! Quite the party animal. Heh.
Even the long soak didn’t enable me to pop out of bed bright and early Saturday morning, though. By then we had already admitted we were going to skip Crown in favor of sightseeing. Ha. Sightseeing, too, went by the wayside in favor of sleeping in and spending a glorious day of girly talk and doing nothing serious at all. Loverly, I tell you.
I’m putting some serious thought into starting a business selling prints, cards, etc, of stuff I paint, and we talked about that for a long time. It’s such a help to get ideas from a variety of sources, especially since I am so unfamiliar with things like E-bay. If I don’t have money to spend, or unless I want/need something specific, I don’t see the point of cruising around looking at stuff I can’t afford. This may be good for my budget but it doesn’t give me a lot of background information I now find myself needing. Fortunately, others have been willing to help me out with lots of suggestions. I have so much research to do. What a learning curve I have ahead of me!
Sunday was another sleep-in day, though I woke up much earlier than I did on Saturday. We ate breakfast, watched a movie, gabbed some more, and I came home mid-afternoon. The drive wasn’t bad, except for the glorious sunshine that half blinded me. God, I hate being such a grinch about something I’ve always loved so much. I’ve noticed, though, that even (especially?) if I don’t get outside IN the sunshine, I’m more cheerful in sunny weather than cloudy.
Monday saw me discover downloading music. Lest some vigilante decide that I’m a hazard to the future of the music industry, I’ll say in my own defense that I was looking for songs from Mean Mothers: Independent Women’s Blues featuring women singers of the ‘30’s and ‘40’s, which has only been released on vinyl. I was hoping to find higher quality versions than what I’ll be able to get if I can have my old beat-up tape put on a CD. Alas, of the 15 songs on the album, I could only find One Hour Mama by Ida Cox. (“I’m a one-hour mama/ and no one minute papa/ ain’t the kinda man for me/ Set your ‘larm clock, papa/ one hour that’s proper/ and love me like I’d like to be….” There’s also a great line about a (soldier?) going to war …”with a load of big artillery/ but he don’t know what it’s for….” The song … erm… covers the subject rather nicely.) It is my favorite, but I am disappointed that I couldn’t find some of my other favorites too. Like Bertha Idaho singing, “I don’t care where you take it, sweet papa, just move it on outa here./ I mean, get yourself some atmosphere.” Or Harlem Hannah singing “Keep your nose outa mama’s business or you will get yourself in bad /If you don’t stay outa mama’s business someday you’re gonna wish you had…”
Amy recommended LimeWire as a search and download tool, and I’m loving it. Using the “browse host” feature put me onto Victoria Spivey, and I’d never heard of her. More great stuff. Much music happiness has ensued. I’ve mentioned Taj Mahal’s Cakewalk into Town (“I had the blues so bad one time/ It put my face in a permanent frown/ but I been feelin’ so much better I could cakewalk into town/ I woke up this morning feelin’ so good/ I laid back down again/ Throw your big leg over me, mama/ I might not feel this good again.” And another line about “stealin’chickens from the rich folks’ yard.”) I’d heard of Taj Mahal, but this was the only song I knew, and I was reluctant to buy a CD with no more information than that, at least not right now. I got several songs by him, and more by him and Ry Cooder, and now I’ll definitely plan to buy lots by him-as soon as I can afford to buy lots of anything.
Something that I’ve really realized more strongly than I suspected is that I seem to be approaching that line between Extrovert and Introvert, if I haven’t already crossed it and left it in the dust. If I don’t get plenty of alone-time, I get pretty damn cranky. Lately I’ve been in a really good mood and have been very productive, but damn. I was feeling stressed on Monday when Tuneless Boy upstairs started “playing” and “singing.” Believe me, I use those terms advisedly. Historically, I’ve been indulgently amused (though catty) about his lack of skill, and even admired him for enjoying himself so much and trying so hard. Monday I had no such tolerance. I had to leave the studio, because he practices directly above that room. I had plenty of work to do in other rooms, but I kept sticking my head in the door, hoping he’d follow his usual pattern and only play for about 5 minutes. Nope, he picked Monday to have a longer attention span than usual. His current fave seems to be Bob Dylan. You might think that would give him an advantage, since Dylan can’t sing either and many of his songs tend to be rather tuneless. Nope, he just sounds downright drunk and wanders ever farther off whatever passes for a tune. “It ain’t pretty” doesn’t begin to cover this subject. Wow.
Well, that pretty much brings me up to date on what’s happened in the last few days. Now to go out and do more stuff to write about.