Seeking Sanctuary in Art

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. We'd tried and failed once, here, Danny and I, and we were ready to give it a second shot.

Walking into Aurora, Danny began to ooh and ahh over the sleek black and white decor; he understood better once I explained that the place is a club on weekend nights.

Once in our booth, he continued the appreciative noises about the menu. Ooh, schnitzel! Ahh, fresh salmon! I brought him back to reality by reminding him that we had nerdy plans afterwards and that he was the one on a tight schedule.

So we went with sandwiches, he with his first-ever Muffaletta (he'd had bites of mine at Xtra's and Lamplighter and was ready for his own) and me with the roast pork with Swiss cheese, coleslaw, sliced pickles and Dijon mustard on ciabatta.

The only thing wrong with my sandwich was its height, so I wasn't able to actually eat it as intended. Still, even with a knife and fork, the flavorful pork and crunchy coleslaw were a tasty combination.

Apparently Danny's occasional bites of my Muffalettas hadn't prepared him for how salty a sandwich it is.

Hello, olive tapenade? I suggested he thin out the amount of olive spread and that was all it took for him to be more than satisfied with his choice.

One of the benefits of lunch at Aurora is that the chef is a master pastry chef and dessert arrives unbidden.

Today it was two rectangles of classic cheese cake. No razzle-dazzle flavors, no add-ins, just rich cream cheese flavor with a hint of lemon zest in a perfect sized portion.

Bellies full, we headed the four blocks down to St. Paul's to continue our quest to see all the Tiffany windows in central Virginia together.

For a church originally designed to be simple and devoid of religious symbols (iconography being much too Catholic for the, ahem, Episcopal church), St. Paul's is positively museum-like now, rich in art and objects. Which was exactly why we were there.

As we entered the church, the bells rang out the hour overhead; it was very cool to hear them from within. With our "Walking Tour of St. Paul's" brochures in hand, we did the full tour.

And, as we did so, we realized how familiar we've become with Tiffany's style; we can spot a non-Tiffany window from fifty paces across a nave or chancel.

Only one non-Tiffany window impressed us and that was for reasons completely opposite from those that make us Tiffany groupies.

Henry Holiday's "Moses Leaving the House of Pharaoh" had none of the luminosity of a Tiffany, but the richness of its jewel tones was breathtaking.

Since we'd come for the Tiffany windows, we were surprised to discover that St. Paul's foremost work of art is the mosaic Anderson Altarpiece: The Last Supper.

We knew from the VMFA exhibit that mosaic was also a specialty of the Tiffany Studios and here was magnificent proof.

The reproduction of Leonardo's fresco of the Last Supper could be an afternoon's viewing in and of itself. The rich, gold background set off the classic composition and up close it was mesmerizing to see all the tiny pieces that made up the greater picture.

For historical purposes, we took note of pew #63 (Jefferson Davis) and pew #111 (R.E. Lee and fam).

As a long time-lapsed Catholic, I had to laugh when taking note of the cushions in most of the pews. So it's okay to have creature comforts but not religious symbols in a church? Too funny.

But it wasn't issues of religion we were there for, it was art. And that surrounded us at every turn.

Luckily for us art lovers, the church wasn't closed today.

Tiffany Tour for One

There's nothing like a man in a red sweater and green corduroy pants to put a person in the Christmas spirit, especially factoring in an extravagantly-decorated Gilded Age mansion.

In further pursuit of seeing another of Virginia's magnificent Tiffany windows, I took the Maymont House Holiday tour this afternoon.

I reported to the basement door of the house, knocked for what seemed like forever and was finally admitted to the inner sanctum.

To my great delight, I was the only one who showed up for the tour at that hour, so mine was to be a personal tour.

"Interrupt me to ask whatever you want," he said, obviously having no idea whom he had taken on.

You know, I think I will, sir.

The funny part was that after paying, I was told to leave the basement and walk around to the front of the house to start my tour.

"We want you to enter as a guest would have," the ticket guy told me.

"As opposed to coming in the back way I did like a lowly servant?" I inquired.

Sheepishly, he said yes.

So around the porte-cochere I went and up through the grand entrance as if I were paying a call on Mrs. Dooley (which, by the way, was done on Wednesdays only from 1 to 5; so I was at least following social protocol with today's visit).

My knowledgeable guide began by warning me that the Victorians believed that if a little holiday decoration was good, a lot was even better.

The first floor rooms were effusively decorated with greenery, poinsettias, red ribbons, golden beading and such.

Add in the mahogany walls, stenciled ceilings, elaborate woodwork and fussy furniture and it was bordering on visual overload.

In the dining room, the table was set for Christmas dinner and the menu was heavy on protein with many elaborate courses.

It began with oysters and moved through Virginia ham, roasted turkey and dressing, duck with mixed lettuces and, a personal favorite, glazed sweetbreads (explained to me by my guide as not really bread at all).

I was struck by the enormity of the table's centrepiece only to be told that large arrangements were used to prevent glancing, much less conversation, across the table.

One spoke with the people on either side, but never to anyone else.

Some might see that as limiting, but it sounds like more of a challenge to me than anything.

Tiffany items were present throughout the house, including several gilded clocks and an elaborate dressing table and chair made of silver and tusks from the narwhal whale.

I found the set both strikingly beautiful and appalling distasteful for seeing part of four whales incorporated into the pieces.

And then there was that 15' Tiffany window, which I was lucky enough to catch at an absolutely perfect moment.

"You're seeing it at its best, with the afternoon sun coming in, " my guide told me, knowing the real reason I'd come on his tour.

Hey, it was just the two of us for an hour, so we'd shared a lot by that point.

He'd already learned that I'd been raised a Catholic (like Major Dooley), so he said he felt comfortable explaining the New Testament imagery in the bottom third of the window (I have to presume he has an alternate tour for non-Christians).

What I hadn't mentioned was that I'm really a heathen, so I still had no idea what he was talking about.

But it was the upper portions in all their Art Nouveau splendor that I found most impressive.

That Art Deco desire to bring the outdoors in was perfectly represented with the twining grape vines and elegant non-representational forms.

I tried to imagine living in a house where I would see such a window every time I came up or down the stairs and couldn't.

Too big, too fussy, just too much.

But for a while this afternoon, it was the loveliest place to be...admiring Tiffany's handiwork in the sunlight with a terrific tour guide in green pants and a red sweater.

I could practically hear angels singing.

Seriously.