National Treasures

I have been on vacation this week.  My husband and I took a couple of days to visit Washington DC.  I had the privilege of visiting a couple of the Smithsonian Art Galleries. While the science museums were packed with bus loads of children, the art museums were far less congested.  Since the museums were free, I could take a quick stroll or a leisurely one.  We come through this area a couple of times a year, so I felt no pressure to hurry as I could always come back.  If you are in the area and an art enthusiast, I suggest allowing yourself at least a couple of days just to see the art.  By the time you find parking, snag a map and a bite to eat, your strolling time gets a little cut short.  Add to that the fact that the hours of operation to all of the museums is limited. (10am until 5pm in most cases.)

My first stop was the National Gallery of Art.

These are the works you study in your basic art history classes.  The galleries are well organized and allow one to progress through the periods of art history.  Each room houses several examples of each period so it is easy to witness the changes in art both in technical skill and in subject matter.  I hated History classes in high school and college.  Art galleries put a whole new spin on history for me.  Here one can see entire cultures move through the things they think are important.  Their reactions to wars and political issues of their time as well as their every day life are on display.  History becomes more significant through art.

Aside from taking a stroll through history, it is quite exhilarating to stand in front of works only seen in books or slides.  Slides do nothing for Rembrandt.  Standing in front of his work and witnessing first hand, the uncanny qualities of his portrayal of human flesh is almost disturbing.  His portraits seem as if they are living and breathing right in front of you!  It isn't so much the "photographic" exactness as it is the subtle hues beneath the skin, and the glimmer in the eye, that speak of life. It hints not only of the subjects life, but of the gentle intuition of Rembrandt himself to have so precisely conveyed what he has witnessed.  Another revelation to me was the size of some of the works I had studied.  It is difficult to imagine the size of a painting when it is projected on a screen in a darkened room.  Sometimes finding that the painting was much smaller than I had imagined, made it far more intimate.  Knowing that a painting was small and one was meant to approach it,  just took the work from a place of grandeur to a humble and tender experience.

Next up was the Hirshhorn Museum.

I love contemporary art.  If I am being honest, a great deal of it goes over my head.  Nonetheless, I am compelled to look at it.  I blame an exhibit at the Guggenheim in New York for the addiction to it. Once you get that jarring feeling of having met a kindred spirit through their art, you just find yourself reaching for it again and again.  There have been a number of inspiring pieces or installations since my encounter with Irwin's "Soft Wall" in New York , this week at the Hirshhorn it was Ann Hamilton's "palimpsest".

It is helpful to read the little plaques at each work.  Those little plaques help one "get" the artist's intentions.  But I feel they can sometimes rob us of an "experience".  For me, the most successful pieces need very little in the way of words.  I like to read the plaques AFTER viewing the art.  For this installation, I overheard someone say it was inspired by the artist encounter with an old man facing memory loss.  He used post it notes all over his apartment. This was enough information, although I wish I hadn't heard it before experiencing it, it may or may not have made a difference in what I was to take from it.  Nonetheless, I find myself reflecting on it long after I left.  That is, I think, a very good thing.  By my standards, the fact that I am still thinking about the work, indicates a strong piece.

One of the first things that hit me about this work was that you had to actually walk into it.  It wasn't meant for you to stand outside and gaze at it.  It was a small room with pieces of paper tacked to the wall with pins.  The papers had handwritten memories written on them.  They were floor to ceiling on each wall and were on the floor as well.  The papers on the floor were given a healthy coating of beeswax.  In the back of the room was a glass box containing two heads of cabbage.  The cabbage was being eaten by bugs and snails.  The liquid around the heads of cabbage along with the bugs gave a clear message of degradation.  They were rotting away.  On the front wall, above the door was a small alcove or shelf with a working fan.  The fan was one of those iconic fans from the 50's era perhaps. It was a small fan with a simple black frame about it.

Now that we have the basics of the piece, lets get into the experience.  One walks through an average size doorway to go into the piece.  It is required that one removes their shoes or place upon them, a protective bootie.  I chose to go barefoot.  I am glad I did.  My first sensation was of the wax floor.  Slightly tacky, almost fleshy.  The organic nature of it rendered something philosophical about the experience.  I immediately started reading.  Everyone was reading.  There was a quiet reverence about the room.  I got a little teary thinking about how treasured each memory was and how sad it is to lose them.  The breeze created by the fan was the only sound as it rustled some of the papers.  It created movement and I remember thinking of it as breath.  By now I was feeling like I had climbed right into someone's being.  It was intimate and I felt honored to be allowed in.  At first glance, I noticed that the bright green of the cabbages was a good complimentary choice against the yellowed papers.  I wasn't sure they were necessary to the piece other than the visual balance they provided.  It wasn't until later that evening that my mind put it all together.

I was thinking about Egyptian tombs and the sarcophagus.  Then it hit me.  The cabbages, organic material, like our brains, deteriorate.  Here in the brain, where all the memory lies, is the very essence of our being.  It is the sacred, precious part of us.  Encased in its glass coffin for us to look at.  But the life that it represented is written like hieroglyphs on the wall.  The essence of one person's life moves around the room on the breeze.  There's a sense of death and a sense of life after death.

At the end of the day, it was the one work that stayed with me.  Days later and I am still moved by it.  It truly is haunting.  Beyond the piece itself, I have to wonder about the artist.  She has so expertly articulated an intangible feeling.  I can't help but think she must be a very insightful and compassionate person.  All of the technical details of space and balance were spot on in scale, color, material choices....etc.  I cannot find a single fault.

Like the National Gallery, I didn't see all of the Hirshhorn.  Ann Hamilton's work was the highlight of my trip to DC this time.  I can't wait to get back and see what other treasures I missed the first time around!