Day by Day

Samhain                                                           Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Thursday is art day; Friday is Latin day.  Today Greg and I will go over my (rough) translation of verses 36-48 of Book I of Ovid’s Metamorphosis.  Though slow going, I get a thrill each time I crack a phrase, write it down and it makes sense.  Even if Greg later points out I’m wrong.   I have a lot of opportunity for improvement and that makes the learning worthwhile.  Saturday is errand day and around the house work day.  Sunday, again, is Latin.  Monday is business meeting and Woolly day.  This leaves me Tuesday and Wednesday as buffer days.  So far, this schedule seems to work pretty well for me, though my lackluster performance yesterday made me wonder a bit.

(this graphic illustrates the verses I’ve translated for today.)

On the climate change front.  The world has begun to lurch forward on two aspects of climate change:  reduction of carbon emissions and adaptation.  In the more radical wing of the environmental movement adaptation or mitigation has been capitulation, something to avoid since it muddies the gravity of the problem we face.  A tipping point may be at hand.  Folks have begun to put forth adaptation in the context of realizing the global warming train has not only left the station, but is well on its way.  A certain, not insubstantial amount of warming is now inevitable, perhaps as much 2 degrees, possibly more.   Given that, mitigating projects that can help soften the damage, are not only a good idea, but necessary.  If proposed in the context of inevitable warming, mitigation projects can also underscore the need to take dramatic steps now to prevent more warming.  I’m hopeful we’ll see progress out of Cancun.

My comments above do fly in the face of polling numbers that suggest climate change has receded in the public’s mind, especially as the economic crisis has shoved personal financial peril forward.  Understandable, but not good.  My hunch about a tipping point comes more from the gradual roll out of an increasing consensus about the science.  We’ll see.

Unthawed.

Samhain                                           Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

So beautiful.  The moon floats above our cottonwood trees, a thin sickle, its horns pointing to the east.  I’ve never seen any art object that can compare to the sleek curves and understated lighting of a sickle moon.

When I ran out of sleep a couple of days ago, up for a while in the morning,  I set up today.  After my two tours at the MIA, I’m worn out, tired, a bit dejected.  Losing sleep fiddles with my emotional monitor, I become more sensitive, less able to assess accurately how I’m feeling or doing.

The Thaw exhibition has proved a puzzle for me.  I don’t seem too good at touring it and I can’t quite figure out why.  I base this on the flatness of all three tour’s responses to my guiding them, a flatness that is out of character for most of my tours.  I love this show and the objects in it.  They fascinate me and they shine with a fierce enthusiasm, witness to the powerful visions of people who live close to the land.  But somehow what I’m doing doesn’t convey my excitement.  I may approach this show too analytically, too much absorbed in the art historical arguments about native masterpieces and how to view native art.  Maybe.  I just don’t know.

As I said, when I’m worn out, like today, the negatives surface with ease and have more endurance, that may be an aspect of this problem, but it’s not all of it.  Perhaps I need to reconstruct my tour on different grounds, use different objects.  Maybe I need to develop actual questions for each object, something I resist doing because I prize the conversational atmosphere, just folks walking through the gallery sharing what we see and what we know.  That usually works well for me.  Not this time.

Touring the Thaw

Samhain                                                      Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Working with the Thaw collection today, two tours.  As I’ve gone back over my notes, the collection becomes alive again, a collection of masterpiece art made by native American artists, women and men, in many materials from all the regions of North America save Mexico.  The Tsimishian raven frontlet is still my favorite, a compact work, well-carved with abalone inlay.  It features, probably, Raven Who Owns The Sun; the image of raven enhanced with an abalone sun that, when struck with light, flares back the rays of our home star.

The Yupik mask, too, with its feathery margin, fox teeth and diving seals, conveys the power necessary to hunt in the frozen world of the Arctic.  In order both to survive the hunt and bring back food essential for life shamanic prayer and ritual added itself to the hunter’s knowledge and weaponry, giving as much of an edge as possible to the Yupik hunter.

Though the phrase is from a current photography show, I would call the Thaw collection an embarrassment of riches.

Winter’s Loon

Samhain                                       Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

It’s the best time of the year.  Ring a ling, ring a ling, ring a ling.  Yes, because the woods are lovely, dark and deep.  And because we have promises to keep.  It’s the best time of the year.

I’m no Christmas curmudgeon.  The lights and the cheeriness lift my spirits, too.  Yet it is not the lights toward which I drift, drawn in Frost’s New England sleigh pulled by a draft horse black as the snow falling is white.  I wander toward the woods, the dark and the deep.  In there, amongst the trees, far from city lights lies the reason for the season for me.

Each night for the last week or so I’ve heard my favorite sound of the season, the hooting of a great gray owl which lives in our woods.  I’ve never seen this bird and this may will be the child of the one I heard years ago.  The bass voice declares a confidence in the dark and the cold, an embrace.  The rhythm and the solitariness of the sound captures the winter dark as a loon’s cry distills the summer sun setting on a northern lake.

This is the carol for which my heart yearns; strange, in its way, since the great gray is the apex predator in our world, excepting, of course, the humans.

So, as you drink your Christmas cheer, crack the window a bit, listen. You might hear the voice of the woods, lovely, dark and deep.

Sticking It To The Man

Samhain                                                 Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

File under sticking it to the man:  Wikileaks.  File under government mad, pouts, hunts down bad man and charges him with anything they can find.  Come on, guys. I’m no Rand Paulite and even I can see big government blaming somebody, anybody else for the mud in their own eye.  Let Assange go and quit acting like spoiled children.  Transparency is a good thing.   Even if it forces short term changes.  Face up to it and move on.

File in the already fat folder:  Science fiction comes true.  A private corporation put a capsule into space and brought it back to earth safely.  Well, to ocean.  Scenes from 2001 floated before me with weightless passengers on a Pan-Am flight drinking Coca-Cola served by in-flight attendants dressed like Twiggy.

Finished up verse 46 of the Metamorphosis.  If I did my arithmetic right, I am now one third of one thousandth of the way toward my goal.  Of course, this probably inflates the quality of my early attempts which a more adept me will have to redo.  Even so.

Emmer concedes governor’s race to Dayton

Samhain                                          Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Back up at 8 am for an 8:30 conference call with the Minnesota Environmental Partnership.  This concerned information we may use when defending against roll backs to current environmental policy.  The sound quality was poor, but the information, presented in power point slides via a webinar website, had a lot of good data.  I can’t discuss it, but it was far from discouraging.

Here’s good news just posted at the Trib:  Emmer concedes governor’s race to Dayton.   A tip of the hat to the state Republicans.  They read the state right; we’re weary of recount wrangles.  Perhaps we can begin a more bi-partisan approach to Minnesota’s future.  I’d like to see it.  Bi-partisanship is good for environmental issues.

We will probably spend more time on administrative and rule-making work for the next two years than we have in the past. We being the Sierra Club and our allies.

In between I looked up Latin words in preparation for translating lines 40-45 of Book I, the Metamorphosis.  It’s something about water and the sky and sun, but I have yet to put it together.

More Tales From the Art Crypt

Samhain                                           Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Fire extinguisher training.  All guards and registrar personnel get trained in the use of fire extinguishers.  Ken reports this is a lot of fun.  “They put pans of fire all over the room and you have to practice figuring out how to put them out.”  Waving a hand like a fire extinguisher, he went on, “See.  A double layered fire, you have to go up and down, starting at the bottom and moving across it.”  Imagine a spirited faux demonstration.  Then, one day there was a real fire.  “A contractor (notice who the bad guys are here) was smoking in the building.  Not supposed to.”  Wags finger. “Throws his cigarette in a wastebasket with…”  Wait for it.  “Sawdust in it and a fire started.”  His eyes light up, “We all jumped for it and Steve won.  He put it out.”

On a more serious note, Ken monitors scholars who want to use objects in our collection for research.  A recent example is a gentlemen who specializes in the study of Chinese Imperial silks, especially Imperial robes.  He used our collection to observe and make notes about the Chinese tendency to alter robes to fit new Imperial court members, rather than disposing of the old ones and making new.  One of our robe’s has, he pointed out, a Song dynasty fabric sewn in as part of alterations to its sleeves.  When robes would become too deteriorated to use, still usable sections would be cut out for use at a later time.

In enameled cabinets with glass windows in them, Ken opened one and pulled out a drawer.  It had a full silver setting, made by Tiffany, with hammered grips and small Japanese objects: pumpkins, turtles, grass affixed near the grip’s end.  I’m not a big silver service guy, but seeing this made me want to own one.  Just like that one.

The drawer below the Tiffany set, which held the serving utensils, there were spiral cuff-links and a tie tack made Alexander Calder.  Along side them were a pair of old eye glasses, some snips and other assorted oddments that might have rested on a table at Grandma’s garage sale.  Except these were really, really nice.

An Actual Art Emergency

Samhain                                                     Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

One story from the MIA storage tour.  On a February morning, after days of below zero weather, the registrar for the permanent collection comes to work.  Blam!  Blam!  Blam!  Vibrations pound the main storage facility.  He hears clinking as Chinese ceramics move in their storage cabinets.  The phone.  “Tell them to stop!”  A burly contractor comes down, a scowl on his face, “Finally we’ve got warm enough weather to compact the soil.  We have to do it to protect the curtain wall of the Target Wing we’re building. What’s the problem?”

“Oh,”  the registrar says, “Let me show you.”  They walk over to the Chinese ceramics.  “That one, $750,000.  That one, $250,000.”   “Fine.  You have 45 minutes.”

The registrar calls all registration staff, “We have an actual art emergency.  Drop what you’re doing and come down here.”  45 minutes the T’ang, Song and Ming dynasty ceramics had a location safe from the pounding and the brutal world of building construction continued its work.

Yet one more meeting designed to get our retirement finances in order before Kate’s retirement.  We’ve got everything lined up, just need to cross ts and dot is.

A lot to it, but really a lot less than starting, say, a career.  An interesting comparison since the possible 25 to thirty years of life left is a good chunk of a career.  Now our career is to stay alive and not go broke.

Registration and Storage: MIA

Samhain                                                                          Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Toured the Minneapolis Institute of Arts storage main storage facility today with other members of the docent discussion group.

Brian Kraft gave a presentation about Registration, a hidden facet of museum life, hidden at least from the museum going public.  They accession all objects, giving them a number with the year and the number in sequence from the beginning of the year, one for each object acquired.  The condition of the art work gets a record, good enough for legal and museum purposes, though perhaps not good enough for conservator’s eye.  A conservator gets a call if anything in the piece looks wonky.

The museum loans out about 350 pieces each year and any piece worth more than a significant amount of money has to have a courier who never leaves the art.  Brian, for example, last month flew to Australia with an object.  This involves sitting in warehouses, following art out of the plane, waiting at customs.  Not glamorous.

Though the museum used to accession about 1,000 works a year, in recent years the number has declined to around 400 with a renewed emphasis on quality over quantity.

Registration cleans the art and its various vitrines, frames and mounts.  Registration also moves art, both for special exhibitions and for regular curatorial determined rotations back into storage.  The large Chihuly sunburst, permanently fixed to the lobby ceiling, gets cleaned once a year, for example, when a skyjack, a rental, comes into the museum for that and a few other high tasks.

The museum has 173 galleries, 82,000 plus accessioned works and 2,000 + in “record book” art, art not considered museum quality but that does fill a blank spot in our collection.  This last never goes on show.

When a loan is made, the borrowing institution pays for packing, insuring, moving, and installation, then return.  This means that in the case of big exhibitions mounted by our curators the price tag for the show can be quite high.

The MIA now has an in-house frame maker who can make a $30,000 frame for $5,000.  A significant cost saving.  There are several specialists on staff, art packers, the frame maker, a lighting person responsible for 5,500 light bulbs and assistant registrars for exhibitions, loans and acquisitions.

To get to the storage area we left the public side of the museum and got in the freight elevator.  The freight elevator came into the museum during the renovation and expansion before the target wing.  They built it big enough to side-load a 1957 Cadillac, a car anticipated for an exhibition that never came to fruition, though when the Tatra came in  the elevator was plenty big.  Ken Krenz, the registrar for the permanent collection, took us down to the storage level and opened the white 15 foot high doors into a treasure house.

Think of  a below ground attic chuck full of interesting things one of your crazy aunts might put out for a garage sale.  When we came inside, stored items from the Oceania collection sat on a tall, all metal cabinet to our right.  To our left a small work table with a computer and a work area serve as Ken’s throne room for his domain.

Just beyond his computer, down a long hall way, were racks on either side, ceiling mounted and made of heavy gauge screen.  They pull in and out, bringing with them paintings hung from ceiling to floor.  I imagine there were 20 or 25 racks on each side, some 50 in all.  In the hallway were the inverted v-shaped, carpeted, rolling carts used to take paintings to and from the galleries or to conservation.  Beyond these racks on both sides were rows of enameled white cabinets, locked, some with windows and some with no windows.  Beyond one such row on our right were storage areas with large sliding anodized aluminum holders covered in a mesh that allowed air but not water to pass through.  On each aluminum mesh holder was a Chinese imperial robe.

In an enamel cabinet beside the bays devoted to Imperial robes, cabinets with no windows, Ken showed us floor to the top of the 6 foot cabinets shelves filled with Japanese scroll paintings, each box a work of art in itself.  Some of the boxes had the works title on the outside, some, too, had a small essay by a famous art historian written in Kanji on the inside cover.  These scroll boxes had u-shaped holders that kept the scroll from resting on the box’s bottom, avoiding flattening a scroll over a long time in storage.

Toward the rear wall there were rows of sturdy metal shelving, ceiling to floor, stuffed with sculpture, chairs, tables, cabinets and other bulky items.

Other hand moving items similar to those in grocery stores crowded aisles and made easy access difficult.

More on this tomorrow.

While The Cyber River Closed

Samhain                           New Winter Solstice Moon

Midnight  12/6/10

Writing this on Word since I’ve had no internet connection for a few hours.  My limited number of tricks have not produced a link and I don’t have the patience for navigating so-called “customer service.”  George Orwell would be proud of the internet and internet services industry.

Kate’s cold continues with little sign of progress.  She suffers, complains about not liking to be sick, but otherwise Norwegian’s through it all.  She takes illness as a personal insult, something to be shrugged off if possible, if not, to work through and last something that requires rest and chicken noodle soup.  She’s in the latter mode right now.  Good for her.

We skyped tonight.  It’s Hanukkah so the grandkids had various gifts from doting grandparents and uncles and aunts.  The literal hit of the evening was an inflatable t-ball set.  Ruth took swing after swing, often swinging from her right shoulder and leveling at the ball.  She’s co-ordinated for 4.  Or, rather 4 and ½.

Her blond hair swirls, ringlets tumbling every which way as she performs couchnastics, a living room form of gymnastics that replaces gym equipment with the normal living room furniture.

My Latin is still here spread out on the desk beside me.  This Ovid requires slow, laborious work.  Look up words.  Figure out forms.  Check usage possibilities, verb tenses, noun declensions.  A lot of back and forth with books and pages of help.  I realized tonight that it’s a hobby, something I’m doing for fun.  Weird, huh?

Winter has snugged us up in the house, the furnace and insulation our best friends just as the AC and the insulation are our best friends in the summer.  I like winter because it provides all this darkness for desk work, darkness in which there are no outdoor chores.  Therefore, no guilt.