travel: the national gallery of art’s east building

When I thought I had finished exploring the National Gallery of Art, I happened upon even more. Before I had even headed over to the East Building, I looked at information on display near the exit in the West Building about its expansion in 1978, and I think by that year, my family had already moved from Rockville, Maryland to Groton, Connecticut.  And so I don't think there was an East Building when I had toured the National Gallery of Art as a child. Later during my tour of the East Building, I looked out a window while the docent explained that I.M. Pei had the challenge of building the expansion on a trapezoidal shaped property.             

After all morning spent in the West Building, I stepped outside to cross the pavement to go to the East Building. I had no idea until later that these pyramidal glass structures were skylights into the walkway underneath the two buildings. I did recall the pyramidal glass structure to the Louvre Museum when I had traveled to Paris in my early 20s. 

I was so tired from walking miles that morning as I approached my  exploration of modern and contemporary art.

I loved the contrast in buildings of the East to West. I later learned from the docent too that I.M. Pei met the challenge of building on a trapezoidal shaped property by designing the building to be one large isosceles triangle joined to a small right triangle. Oh and here's a pair of earrings I almost bought as a souvenir. I didn't because I rarely wear earrings.

Once I entered and talked to docents at reception, they recommended that I start at the top and make my way down to view all the art. Even the opaque glass elevator was a work of art. On the third floor, there are sculptures outside on the rooftop. Right away one notices the numbers. Clarendon font?                 

 

Is this abstraction? Paring down what's real unto its most basic shape?

After viewing and photographing a piece of art, I also took pictures of the placards next to it. Is this artist saying that abstraction is making a piece ugly and deformed? And why am I only now noticing these "stars" on the wet pavement in the joints of these triangle stone tiles? 

I took a picture of my favorite number, 7. 7 is the year that my parents threw me a big birthday party, which I remember enjoying. I don't know if my younger siblings ever got to have a big party with lots of guests. I guess that's the perk of being the oldest sibling. I have to remember that my parents loved and celebrated me. And wow what is this font? 

Here's an installation I loved for its pure functionality. Sitting.

And is it still art if it's functional? These rocks weren't cordoned off for not sitting. But I didn't because they were wet, and it was raining.

And here's an installation that included cording to perhaps suggest that they were keep the sculpture intact. The wire cables made me think of tent poles, which you have to erect by inserting into each other when not collapsed.

And here's a recent acquisition that's a play on words.

 

Why blue? I wondered. And it's a cobalt blue, which is rather vibrant and not the navy blue of stolidity.

Most of my art education happens from reading the placards next to museum installations. I've always loved the color of blue, but perhaps not as pure hue. I guess like a blue that is mixed with black or a bit of green to make indigo.

  

More numbers to ponder. 

And I'm only now seeing the trapezoidal shapes of the building in these pictures.

And then the big reveal for me: who created these numbers?

Of course, Robert Indiana who created my favorite and iconic work of his, "Love." And now I'm reading all about him on his website, and now, I'm wanting to reference his work, "Amor."

travel: day 3 washington dc

I just watched here in the cafe, an African American man, wearing a black hoodie that said I Am My Ancestor’s Wildest Dream passed by. I love that. I walked again to the Tatte Bakery Cafe in the city center. And took notice of footwear. I guess that's one way of telling who the locals are. Who wears sandals in early rainy April? And of course I do love leather shoes with a suit.                          

 

Some of the locals do wear athletic shoes like my favorite Adidas Stan Smith. When my Adidas blue suede Gazelle wear out (there are holes forming in both heels), I want a pair of black leather Sambas. And this time I photographed the neon graffiti at Tiffany's as a reminder to wear my Paloma Picasso's graffiti love ring.

 

The pistachio croissants as well as the savory pastries looked scrumptious.

Oh I miss these sweet pastries of Kouign Amann and Morning Buns.

And then my S P I N A C H , J E R U S A L E M  A R T I C H O K E , & E G G  P L AT E ( C I L B I R ) arrived. Sautéed spinach, roasted Jerusalem Artichoke (which I now know are sunchokes) and a poached egg, over garlic labneh, with Aleppo chili oil, served with sourdough. And my new favorite hot drink, London Fog or Earl Grey tea with vanilla and milk.

 

And then I began my walk to the Hirshorn and promptly got lost. I think where I ended up walking is back to Chinatown in the Penn Quarter. I finally turned around and went past this Catholic church again.   

And knew I was headed back to the city central when I passed the Thomson Elementary school which is across the street from this similar red brick apartment building. I wonder if it was perhaps the headmaster's home or the lodgings for the teachers back in the day. Now it's surrounded by modern buildings and offices. I do like getting lost and figuring out what neighborhood I'm in. 

If I go back to Washington, D.C. though, I want to stay closer to the Metro Station and the Capitol and come on a weekend to go to the Eastern Market and the Library of Congress. So once I was closer to the National Mall, I finally started to feel oriented and could see the Hirshorn in my sights.
     

Unfortunately, the third floor was closed because they were still creating exhibits to celebrate its 50th anniversary. I was the only person on a docent tour, and afterward my docent said I should just stroll through the sculpture garden and go to the Smithsonian American Art Museum at the National Portrait Gallery. And so I did! My feet were aching once I got there, but at least I also knew I wasn't far afterward from my hotel. Alas!

Across the street I saw that another historical building was turned into a hotel. That bums me out, but I suppose we tourists gotta stay somewhere close.

 

As I approached the main entrance, I helped a couple a take a photo in front of the museum. I declined their kind offer to take my pic.

A volunteer at the front desk, when I told her that I was incredibly fatigued, steered me toward the top to make my way down and incorporate a rest stop. Yes please. And once I'd rested and walked and looked, I started exiting opposite where I entered, where a reception was being prepared, I asked a caterer who and she said she wasn't allowed to disclose who were the very important people. No matter, I was exhausted and hungry.

 

And rather than wait a couple hours to take a Lyft from my hotel to a Cambodian restaurant in Columbia Heights I wanted to try, I opted for the confused Chinese restaurant around the corner from my hotel. And instead of ordering the ramen or lamen soup, I thought I'd finally try Dan Dan cooked by a Chinese chef. I dithered over just sipping my large Chardonnay until I could take a taxi, but I was so damn tired.

Instead I ordered the Taiwanese smashed cucumber (underwhelming) and asked the waitress to ask the chef to please add bok choi to my noodles too because I was craving more vegetables. The Dan Dan was pretty darn disappointing.

A dish that originates from Chengdu. Where was the mala? Where was the red color of fiery chilies? No mouth numbing and no flavor. And so this afternoon, I'm going to defrost some pork and make my own version. And this time, maybe I'll make my own version of tea and soy sauce Asian marinated eggs.

clay: kurinuki box

I've still yet to post about my third and last day in Washington, D.C. and unload my photo dump, but in the meantime, I'm back at work and in the studios. I wasn’t going to try to view the solar eclipse this week, but couldn’t help going when I saw science teachers and their students outside on a brilliantly sunny day. And I’m glad I did because it was pretty cool. I wore the glasses for viewing the eclipse given to me by the science department chair and took a pic of the eclipse with them on. And then I took a pic with my camera lens directly on the lens of the viewing glasses.           

 

And the photo is not exactly as I viewed them directly with just the glasses, but still you get the idea. And then it was back to my desk with my computer monitor on the NASA view of the solar eclipse.

I do think I try to draw upon nature when I'm making. But my hand is poor at realistically rendering nature like these beautiful soft orange and peach tulips, which is why I guess I like abstraction because I can't.

I was telling Zan why I like kurinuki so much. The technique of subtraction (which is a major element of abstraction)is so very Japanese, of trying to capture the beauty and imperfection of nature. And so I’ve been making not only kurinuki cups, but also vases. And the droop of those tulips inspired me to turn a cup into a tall vase, which I didn’t photograph and need to find in all the bisque that came out of the kiln yesterday. Yesterday I spent the majority of the afternoon carving this box, of which I photographed all four sides. It's in the photos, where I notice that my lid is not completely fitting into the base and so not looking like a solid piece of rock. But that's okay. I'm still learning this technique.

  

I took one final photo of the lid. And I'll likely look at the greenware today and continue to mess with it.

I think the glaze will make up for the clumsiness of my skill at carving. And I'm already thinking that I'll adhere my favorite rutile on this pot for a cone 10 firing.