Today's greatest regret: I missed Vermeer's "Woman in Blue Reading a Letter" by eight days.
Compensation, if not full restitution, came partially courtesy of "Wonder," the Renwick's opening exhibition after a two-year renovation, a show ranging from Leo Villard's "Volume," an LED light installation that was really just a visual representation of binary code (making it more science than art, I thought) to Patrick Dougherty's fantastical willow structures to John Grade's "Middle Fork," a casting of a 150-year old tree that was then reconstructed using tiny blocks of cedar.
Mind blown and a mid-morning geography lesson with Maya Lin's "Folding the Chesapeake," a green glass marble installation that showed the contours of the bay and its tributaries across the floor of the gallery and up the pale green walls.
The Potomac, whoa.
Ogling the insect-patterned deep pink walls of "In the Midnight Garden" by Jennifer Angus, I overhear a woman say, "My brother lived in New Guinea and he always said I should come see the bugs and I never did."
Her loss, but now she and I both were experiencing them in patterns of flowers, skulls and arranged flitting around the room.
New Guinea, Malaysia and Thailand bugs. Bugs the size of mice. BIG bugs.
Leaving to go to the American Art Museum, I catch the strains of the only Bad Company song I truly enjoy and stop to take it in under the silvery sky I had already commented on during the drive up.
Give me silver, blue and gold
The color of the sky I'm told
My rainbow is overdue
Nothing could have pleased me more than seeing a dazzling photograph of Spike Lee as part of "Eye Pop: The Celebrity Gaze" exhibit. Why? Because while buying tickets for Lee's "Chi-Raq" recently with a friend, a discussion ensued with strangers about the notoriously topical director.
To my astonishment, the young black woman behind the counter was clueless. "So who is this Spike Lee? All y'all seem to talk like I should know him." When I insisted that she should indeed know about Spike Lee, a guy tried to make her feel better, saying the director hadn't done anything in a while. Does. Not. Matter.
I'm sorry, young lady, but you should know who Spike Lee is. Period.
Most obscure fact gleaned from "Eye Pop"? Kobe Bryant was named after the Japanese beef. Seriously.
My estrogen got a boost from "Elaine de Kooning: Portraits," from the many images of JFK for his official portrait to her artsy crowd (the Allen Ginsberg portrait was positively poetic) to the 1957 photograph at the Cedar Bar of her, Franz Kline and poet Frank O'Hara, all three of them looking so smart and sophisticated, as only denizens of NYC in the '50s could.
"Crosscurrents: Modern Art from the Sam Rose and Julie Walters Collection" delivered Hopper, O'Keefe, Thiebaud and Picasso, among many others, while the engrossing "Dark Fields of the Republic: Alexander Gardner Photographs 1859-1872" brought home familiar imagery, like the ruins of the Richmond/Petersburg bridge, the pilings of which I see regularly on my river walks.
Plus, of course, lots of photos of dead bodies.
But the war seemed far away in "Walt Whitman and His Party," a sepia-toned photograph showing Walt and his guy friends on the banks of a river during that time he came to Washington to see his brother and stayed to have an affair with a handsome young man. You know the one.
Curious about what Richmond might be offering in a few years come holiday time? A variation on Miracle on Seventh Street, most likely.
When last I visited, it had been a sherry and ham bar, but until Christmas Eve, it's a Christmas extravaganza, lorded over by a door guy in leopard leggings with a bowl of mint Hershey's kisses between his spotted thighs.
Inside, holiday decor and punk rock Christmas music reward patrons who wait in a line that stretches down the block (unless you're as sage as we are and arrive at just the right time) for a shot at drinks like "I Don't Mind You Shooting Me, Frank, But Take It Easy on the Rum" or "Can I Interest You in Hanukkah?"
Thanks, no.
After toasting each other with nog shots of Baltimore egg nog laced with - what else?- sherry (and rum), we took sustenance next door at Eat the Rich, where we each downed a dozen oysters with some perfectly lovely Le Charmel Muscadet and far too many hushpuppies smeared with Old Bay mayo.
My rainbow may be overdue and I still regret missing Vermeer, but not another thing about this perfect silvery day. Also, nog shots are here to stay.
Showing posts with label museum of american art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label museum of american art. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Monday, May 3, 2010
DC Road Trip Bliss: Shout Out Louds
Perfect road trip = art + restaurant + music. Friend and I accomplished all that and more after a slow trip up soul-sucking 95 to get to Washington today on what definitely felt like a hot August afternoon.
Stop #1: National Museum of American Art to see "Christo and Jeanne Claude: Remembering the Running Fence." This exhibition included drawings, photographs, models and videos of the 24.5 mile white fabric fence erected in 1976 through Sonoma and Marin counties, CA. It was fascinating to learn about the initial resistance of the ranchers to the art which quickly turned to support, resulting in the landowners taking a stand against the local government and ensuring that the project happened.
Views of the fence from hilltops and the air show a magnificent structure that could not have been defined as anything but art. Most impressive was the way it ascended gradually from the Pacific Ocean, as if rising from a force of nature, but almost as cool was how the ranchers utilized all the components of the art, from fabric to poles, in any way they chose after it was taken down. The audacious concept and execution were positively inspirational.
Stop #2: Marvin, in the U street corridor, a restaurant dedicated to singer Marvin Gaye and the years he was self-exiled in Belgium. The menu features both Belgian dishes and the soul food the native Washingtonian loved (can you say chicken and waffles?). To start, Brendan L'Etoile (the sous chef whom we'd met) sent us a seared fois gras with Richmond strawberries, Armagnac and a sherry vinaigrette gastrique. Words are inadequate but my friend summed it up by saying, "This tastes like a heart attack." Oh, it was that good. We sent him a little something to sip on in gratitude, but we definitely got the better part of that deal.
We followed that unexpected treat with Chorizo and fennel moules frites and agreed that they were, without a doubt, the best mussels either of us have ever had anywhere. Next up was the Nicoise salad with exquisitely rare ahi tuna and anchovies like we haven't tasted in rva. Despite being stuffed to the gills, we went on to a braised Berkshire pork shank with white bean stew. There may have also been a bottle of Vouvray in there somewhere. We could not have eaten another bite if our lives had depended on it.
Stop #3: 9:30 club for Freelance Whales and Shout Out Louds. The club was incredibly hot, almost as if the a/c was not working and the crowd obscenely young and obnoxious (I'm not saying that there's a connection). It was my second time seeing FW and they were just as impressive this time, with their earnest attitudes, unusual instruments and multiple vocalists. For fans of the Arcade Fire or Fanfarlo, they are a band worth investigating. Live, they will make you a fan; just ask my friend who gave her approval halfway into the first song.
The last time the SOL played DC was a 10:00 show on a Sunday night in Fall 2007 and I didn't go because of work the next day; needless to say, I felt like I had been owed for almost three years. Their Swedish pop (with a lead singer who sounds like Robert Smith of the Cure) is fabulously catchy with a bass line that ensures dancing about. With a female backup singer and enough cowbell to satisfy all, their sound grabbed the audience from note one and held them. We got to hear just about all of the new CD, Work, which I've been playing nonstop for over a month now, so it was especially satisfying for me.
It was an awfully hot day for our adventure, but every stop provided a pleasure of a different kind. Exiting the car at a gas station in Lorton, we were met with a delightful gust of wind on our bare legs. Setting the tone for the rest of a most enjoyable day, friend announced, "Sometimes all you need is a good breeze up your skirt."
And on some road trips, you get that and so much more.
Stop #1: National Museum of American Art to see "Christo and Jeanne Claude: Remembering the Running Fence." This exhibition included drawings, photographs, models and videos of the 24.5 mile white fabric fence erected in 1976 through Sonoma and Marin counties, CA. It was fascinating to learn about the initial resistance of the ranchers to the art which quickly turned to support, resulting in the landowners taking a stand against the local government and ensuring that the project happened.
Views of the fence from hilltops and the air show a magnificent structure that could not have been defined as anything but art. Most impressive was the way it ascended gradually from the Pacific Ocean, as if rising from a force of nature, but almost as cool was how the ranchers utilized all the components of the art, from fabric to poles, in any way they chose after it was taken down. The audacious concept and execution were positively inspirational.
Stop #2: Marvin, in the U street corridor, a restaurant dedicated to singer Marvin Gaye and the years he was self-exiled in Belgium. The menu features both Belgian dishes and the soul food the native Washingtonian loved (can you say chicken and waffles?). To start, Brendan L'Etoile (the sous chef whom we'd met) sent us a seared fois gras with Richmond strawberries, Armagnac and a sherry vinaigrette gastrique. Words are inadequate but my friend summed it up by saying, "This tastes like a heart attack." Oh, it was that good. We sent him a little something to sip on in gratitude, but we definitely got the better part of that deal.
We followed that unexpected treat with Chorizo and fennel moules frites and agreed that they were, without a doubt, the best mussels either of us have ever had anywhere. Next up was the Nicoise salad with exquisitely rare ahi tuna and anchovies like we haven't tasted in rva. Despite being stuffed to the gills, we went on to a braised Berkshire pork shank with white bean stew. There may have also been a bottle of Vouvray in there somewhere. We could not have eaten another bite if our lives had depended on it.
Stop #3: 9:30 club for Freelance Whales and Shout Out Louds. The club was incredibly hot, almost as if the a/c was not working and the crowd obscenely young and obnoxious (I'm not saying that there's a connection). It was my second time seeing FW and they were just as impressive this time, with their earnest attitudes, unusual instruments and multiple vocalists. For fans of the Arcade Fire or Fanfarlo, they are a band worth investigating. Live, they will make you a fan; just ask my friend who gave her approval halfway into the first song.
The last time the SOL played DC was a 10:00 show on a Sunday night in Fall 2007 and I didn't go because of work the next day; needless to say, I felt like I had been owed for almost three years. Their Swedish pop (with a lead singer who sounds like Robert Smith of the Cure) is fabulously catchy with a bass line that ensures dancing about. With a female backup singer and enough cowbell to satisfy all, their sound grabbed the audience from note one and held them. We got to hear just about all of the new CD, Work, which I've been playing nonstop for over a month now, so it was especially satisfying for me.
It was an awfully hot day for our adventure, but every stop provided a pleasure of a different kind. Exiting the car at a gas station in Lorton, we were met with a delightful gust of wind on our bare legs. Setting the tone for the rest of a most enjoyable day, friend announced, "Sometimes all you need is a good breeze up your skirt."
And on some road trips, you get that and so much more.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
