The Journey and the Moon

Samhain                                            Thanksgiving Moon

The last two nights the Thanksgiving Moon has hung like a pale lantern behind the clouds. The moon draws out of me such tender feelings, yearnings.  Maybe it’s the corollary of the old lover’s cliche, we’re seeing the same moon tonight.

What crosses my mind are all those long ago relatives, bearers of my genetic markers, on the trip out of Africa.  They may have moved on nights like these when the moon was full. Or, would they have huddled around the campfire, wary of predators who saw better in the gloom?

In either case they would have looked at the same moon unchanged from the time they began to move on that most ancient human trail.  Unchanged, that is, until July 20, 1969, a hot night in Muncie, Indiana when my flickering black and white pulled in the live–live–signals of Neil Armstrong setting a space-suit (space-suit!) boot on the lunar surface.

What a journey, if you think about it, from that trek across northern Africa, up into what we now know as the Middle East, to that boot touching down on the eons long undisturbed (by other than passing meteoroids) moon.  Even now when we look at the moon it appears the same as it did then.  Really, it’s only our knowledge that has changed, not the way it looks at night.

It pleases me to think of those, my people, in this season of the year, somewhere perhaps in a temperate latitude after thousands of years of journey, feeling a November wind chill in their face and what would become my Thanksgiving moon overhead.

Conservative

Samhain                                                             Thanksgiving Moon

 

Max Beckman’s “Blind Man’s Buff” is one of the highlights of the MIA’s collections.  His tryptychs are a wonder and the MIA’s may be the best of the batch.  Here’s the fun part. It’s about to undergo conservation and this conservation will not be hidden away in the sub-basement devoted to the Midwest Art Conservation Center, but done right in the gallery over the next few months.

This is an extraordinary opportunity to learn about this painstaking, delicate and sophisticated aspect of museum life.  I’ve had the opportunity to tour the Center twice and heard lectures from them at other times.  Most museum goers don’t know of its existence, I imagine, but it got special attention during the design of the Grave’s Target Wing.  It needed it.  Before it had been jammed into rooms and spaces not being used by the MIA.

Its print and paper conservation room had the most peculiar space up a short flight of stairs and entered through a half-height door.  Here’s an odd bit of history.  An MIA museum guard wrote a successful movie that had this door as a key conceit:  Being John Malkevich. If you saw the movie, you’ll recall that actors entered his brain through a tiny door.

Conservation and restoration are tricky concepts in the world of art and antiquities, the current era different from the near past and very different from the times before that.  In the near past conservation and restoration had a bad time because earlier conservators had sometimes chopped up paintings to fit new frames, filled in colors or removed layers of paint to show an underpainting.  In buildings like those at Angkor the previous era of restoration fixed the buildings, tuning them up to the then current understanding of what they would have looked like.  In both instances conservators and restorers often used permanent materials that could not be distinguished from the original and/or modified the original in substantial ways.

The near past’s reaction against that was to leave objects in their found state, to eschew all but the most necessary (particularly in painting and sculpture) interventions.  The current thinking is to restore, if necessary and deemed advisable, only in concert what the very best investigative work can determine consonant with the original.  And then, here’s a key move, to use only materials easily identified as added and also easy to remove without causing harm to the work or the building.  This allows restorations to reproduce a work’s original look in a way that preserves the artist’s original intent, yet not to alter the original in ways that cannot be undone and undone without injuring the work.  Scholarship in the future may change the view of the object.

We had a large painting conserved by them a few years ago after we ripped it during renovation of our kitchen and living room area.  It was not cheap, but neither was the painting.  They treated our painting with as much care as they would a museums.  The result was quite impressive.  You’d never know it was done.  Which in this case was the point.  They cleaned it, too.

 

 

Tea in the Mail

Samhain                                                         Thanksgiving Moon

A short morning since I slept in till 8:30.  Not usual.  I usually get up between 7:00 and funincular10007:30 am after a bed-time of 11:30.  Last night I was up until 11:50.  Not sure why I needed the sleep, but I did.  So, I’m alert.  That’s good.

An hour plus working on Missing.  I described Hilgo, a harbor town in the realm of the Holly King.  I used memories of Valparaiso, Chile, (see my photo) giving Hilgo a bi-level appearance with a large wharf.

Got my first shipment of teas from Verdant Tea, a 3 oz. a month club that sends out seasonally apt teas in 1 oz. increments.  They also include brewing instructions.  Since I spend so much time at the computer, the gong fu cha method of brewing works very well.  Today I got a black, and two oolongs along with information about the farmer and their operation for each of them.  All Chinese.

The first one I’m going to try is Qilan Wuyi Oolong.  This picture is a tea farm in the Wuyi mountains, famous in Chinese landscape paintings.

Now I’m back after the nap, ready to hit the Ovid.