no more uppity teachers ... or students?

We were supposed to go on a field trip to the Cuba Block Barn today but Hurricane Debby is working her way up the eastern coast. Rain date in September. When I got to the Alfred Station SDB Church parking lot where we were supposed to combine for shared rides to Cuba, Sharon Burdick arrived and she had copies of a fact sheet on the Bedford Corners School House. The schoolhouse was the added bonus for our trip to Cuba, being on the road between the Block Barn and lunch at Sprague's in Portville.

The schoolhouse is now the home of the Portville Historical and Preservation Society. The main room had double desks to hold two students and was large enough that multiple grades could be taught. The teacher was seated on a platform in the front of the room. Later, it was mandated that teachers should not be on a different level than the students and the arrangement of the room was flipped with the teacher platform at the back.

When I was in first-third grades in New Auburn, Wisconsin, the school house was for all the grades, no kindergarten but all twelve numbered grades met in one building with shared rooms for first and second and for third to fifth. That meant that my older sister and I were in the same classroom when she was in fifth grade and I in third. One day, Roberta's class was discussing the polar regions and nosy me butted in to say that we had been to the North Pole. Roberta had to correct my story to say that it was Santa's North Pole in the Adirondacks.

The "we" of the field trip were members of the Bakers Bridge Historical Association and other interested folks.

the disappearing hours

Having lots of books around the house can be a real delight but sometimes one will just disappear. It won't be in the place that I'm sure it should be. The most recent disappearing title was the small and inexpensive, and long-owned, partial facsimile of the Hours of Jeanne d'Evreux, Queen of France. This fourteenth-century manuscript illuminated by Jean Pucelle even has a Wikipedia page. 

The facsimile is just under five and a half inches tall. When the book of hours, now in the Cloisters collection of the Metropolitan Museum in New York, was being restored, the Met displayed the disbound manuscript before it was cleaned and rebound. The "facsimile" is actually slightly larger than the original.

The other day, I was thinking about something and the facsimile came to mind. I went to that shelf of small books in my bedroom and the Hours facsimile was not there. The facsimile of the Hours of Mary of Burgundy was there. I went down the shelf book-by-book several times. I looked on a few shelves where other books of manuscript illumination are kept. I thought, for a while, that I might have lent the facsimile to an art student who was in the manuscripts class. No luck. I was about ready to resign myself to no longer having the facsimile.

This morning, it is cooler outside and I was opening the window in the middle room of my part of the family house. I realized that there was another cluster of little books at the end of the shelf just to my left. And, there was the facsimile of the Hours of Jeanne d'Evreux. Happiness. Made my day.

P.S. (an hour later) I went to move some of the other little books from the shelf near the window to the shelf in the bedroom, the most expectable collective spot for shelving my little books. There was the book on the Bosch and other Flemish paintings in the Prado that I'd really spent a lot of time looking for a year or more ago. I looked among the travel books and among the folders of stuff from trips to Spain. Nope, it was hiding in the little stack of little books.

just a normal guy

“I’ve never felt symbolic. I felt — you know, I’m just here.” He laughed. “I’m just Ken.” (This was an allusion to Ryan Gosling’s showstopping song at the Oscars, the night before the interview.) “I’m just me. I’m just somebody who’s trying to be a writer, trying to do his best. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

Salman Rushdie, in an interview with Sarah Lyall, in the New York Times Book Review

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/14/books/salman-rushdie-knife-interview.html

goin' digital

Quite a few years ago, we used to have regular and contentious discussions about the need to retain physical mailings for ARLIS/NA member business and publications. Email was available to many or most of us but not everybody. I used to argue (sometimes) that until we only used email, people would insist on physical mailings. Even today, the local Bakers Bridge Historical Association sends out a regular newsletter by mail to about half of our members.

I did finally get a smartphone but my life has not moved there. It is not my favorite venue for dealing with life. Today, I am reading a message from the Brooklyn Museum that they are moving our membership card to digital. It's not the first museum that I belong to to do this but I'd rather not. It almost irks me enough to not renew my membership. When I was in New York City last week, I used my old membership card at the Museum of Arts and Design and the front desk clerk checked their database to be sure that the expiration date was not past. The Brooklyn Museum letter said an unexpired membership card can be used for a grace period, with the implication that grace would not be extended for a long period.

Palladianism in Kane, Pa., and Yorkshire

McDermott Mausoleum

Kane, Pennsylvania

Temple of the Four Winds

Castle Howard

Yorkshire

Wikimedia Commons

By jcw1967 from Leeds, UK - Temple of the Four Winds, Castle Howard, 17112017, JCW1967, EOS 1Ds (2), CC BY 2.0

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=78305779

39 x 2 = 78

I do enjoy when numbers line up or add up as much as I enjoy a good sentence. Well, maybe as much. Words and numbers. Sometimes mirrored like palindromes. This morning, I stopped for gasoline before I went to Wegmans to get my Sunday New York Times. The total purchase was $20.78 for 6.078 gallons. Off to Wegmans where I picked up groceries along with the three papers for me and the two Lindas (Alfred friends for whom I pick up and deliver their Sunday papers). My Wegmans bill was $60.39, minus the $21 for the three papers is $39.39. Thirty-nine is half of 78. When I added the grocery total to my monthly food expenses, the total was $638.78. I guess it's just going to be a 39 and 78 kind of day but no "palindrome" yet.

One of the pictures you get when you search the internet for "39 x 2 = 78." It (39 x 78) happens to be the size of sheets for a twin bed.

Harmony Hammond at the Whitney Biennial

A wonderful paragraph, for a variety of reasons, from the review of the 2024 Whitney Biennial in the New Yorker by Jackson Arn entitled "The Whitney Biennial's taste for flesh." Posted March 22, 2024, to appear in the April 1 print edition:

By a close margin, the four fabric assemblages of Harmony Hammond are the fleshiest things in this show. They use a variety of materials to suggest a whole menagerie of bodies, from pimply-shiny to aged and chalky. Colors are subdued for the most part, and strategically so: when a touch of red shrieks out of the dirty white field of "Chenille #11," it almost hurts. Hammond has suggested that flourishes like this were meant to evoke "sexual brutality against women," but take a few steps back and marvel at how this only deepens her work's mystery -- if the red is brutality, what are the string, the smeared white, the grommets? Interpretation is interwoven with the sheer, thingy strangeness of the object, and can't be ripped out. Art like this is built to last, I would guess. But if you prefer your political messaging neat, no chaser, you are welcome to walk to the other end of the sixth floor, go to the terrace, and spend some time with Kiyan Williams's big dirt sculpture of the White House sinking into the ground, complete with upside-down American flag. There's a label in case you can't figure out what it means.

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/04/01/the-whitney-biennial-art-review

Some of the reasons:

• descriptive words, rich and evocative
• I was lucky enough to spend time with Harmony Hammond when we were both active in the Queer Caucus for Art, an affiliated society of the College Art Association (now rebranding itself as simply CAA).
• particular memory of drinks and conversation after a caucus business meeting in Philadelphia when the last remaining folks in the hotel lounge were several older lesbians and me, and then we walked each other back to our hotels. The younger folks had gone off dancing.
• memories of visits to various Whitney Biennials; this one has just opened and runs until August so there's a chance I might get to the City to see it
• I actually said the word "chenille" today when a friend asked us what color we thought her sweater was. I asked about the material. "Is it chenille?"
• the ending of the paragraph

trying to remember the artist's name

Some months ago, I was reminded of the work of a contemporary artist who does watercolors of animals, usually with captions beautifully written in the image. Kind of Audubon-like. I tried all kinds of googling and just could not get a result that included the artist. I had become familiar with the artist when I worked at the Amon Carter Museum and I searched their collection online and that of other museums that might have had a work by him. I thought of sending a note to Milan (a colleague at the Carter) to ask about the artist. The desire to remember his name came and went. I cannot really say I was obsessed but I was frustrated. I felt like I could kind of remember his name but it's hard to search "kind of" on the web.

I hadn't thought about it for a while but, this morning, as I was reading the style section from last Sunday's Times, the social event pictures were from a centennial event at the Morgan Library & Museum which happened to mention that one of the guests was artist Walton Ford. Ta da! That's it! It is Walton Ford that I was trying to remember. Now I wonder what I just forgot so I have room for "Walton Ford" in my brain.

Walton Ford

"Dying Words"

Honolulu Museum of Art

(from his Wikipedia page)

Bute & Montmirail

This is a portrait of John, Lord Mountstewart, later 4th Earl and 1st Marquess of Bute. The portrait is now in the Getty and was one of the works in today's Artle. I hear "Bute" in the voice of Michelle Fairley who plays Princess Augusta in Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story. Another of today's Artle works was a portrait of Charles Benjamin de Langes de Montmirail, Baron de Lubières. "Montmirail" was the noble name of the man who was obsessed by Dowager Countess Violet (Maggie Smith) in the second Downton Abbey film. He left his villa in the South of France to her. Perhaps I'm living too much in historical spaces as manifested in popular culture. Or perhaps the real world needs to be escaped from.
 

another southern road trip, 2024

This road trip in the deep of winter to the southern states may be habit forming. Last year's road trip was quite focused on the Sargent show in Washington, visiting Jeanette in South Carolina, magazines to USModernist, visiting Elizabeth in Orlando, and the Ohr-O'Keefe Museum in Biloxi, Mississippi. This year, I did visit Jeanette again and spent a couple days with Elizabeth and brought her some papers from Alfred that she needed. But overall it was less focused. Here, again, I am posting a list of the overnight or other stops along the way.

• Fredericksburg, Virginia: after the bucolic ride through horsey Virginia country, the confluence of U.S. Route 17, U.S. Route 1, and Interstate 95 at Fredericksburg was almost more maelstrom than I could handle; I did find the Holiday Inn Express and settled into a yummy catfish and grits at the Orleans Bistro, a walk from the hotel; it was karaoke night at the bistro but I survived and woke refreshed; alas, I lost my beloved Harvard IT Summit 2011 travel mug when I left it on top of the car (I didn't drive away with it still on the roof but it wasn't there when I remembered to go get it after supper)
• Florence, South Carolina: overnight with Jeanette and Wanda, plenty of pleasant catching up
• Beaufort, South Carolina: intrigued with Beaufort, is it just because I like saying "bew-fert"?; the waiter at the Lost Local told me where I might find the Sunday New York Times the next day but City Java & News didn't come through and the Publix supermarket did; I enjoy traveling through the coastal salt marshes between Beaufort and Savannah though I didn't stop in Savannah this year
• Brunswick, Georgia: Main Street in the historic district; good pad thai at Basil Thai with a staff that included Asians, Mexicans, Blacks, and whites
• Flagler Beach, Florida: dreaming of an old-fashioned oceanside motel along the beach highway but ended up at a Hampton Inn in Palm Coast
• Winter Park, Florida: lunch, strolling, and shopping to spend time before getting to Elizabeth's after she did her volunteer income tax assistance sponsored by AARP at a community center
• Orlando, Florida (day 1): got to Elizabeth's before she was home; Capsi looked at me quizzically and then decided I was that guy from Alfred and started jumping and barking
• Orlando (day 2): both Elizabeth and I had a morning zoom; we had an easy day with a visit to the Orlando Museum and otherwise just kind of hung around and chatted
• Orlando (day 3): Elizabeth went to the community center for some more tax assistance and I walked around downtown Orlando, looked at some architecture books at the public library, and then went to the Orange County Regional History Center; the library had a historical vitrine display that included an early accession book; the new performing arts center in Orlando is named for Dr Phillips and I learned at the History Center that he developed the process for pasteurizing orange juice; I also learned that Hannibal Square in Winter Park was the former Black section of the downtown shopping area
• Sarasota, Florida: Ringling Museum of Art, particularly the new Ting Tsung and Wei Fong Chao Center for Asian Art (a small pavilion with a green-glazed terracotta façade, designed by Machado Silvetti)
• Sarasota to Tallahassee, Florida: I wanted to take the blue highways and ended up confused off the interstate around Tampa and discovered a pre-Vatican II chapel (Queen of All Saints Chapel) near Brooksville; I couldn't go inside since the dress code for men required coat and tie, no jeans, no earrings
• Tallahassee, Florida: what a hilly surprise (the seven hills, just like Rome) after several hours of flat coastal territory
• Bainbridge, Georgia: the Quality Inn here somehow reminded me of Mount Vernon (columns and porch)
• Blakely, Georgia: county seat of Early County (good courthouse and square)
• Kolomoki Mounds State Historic Park, near Blakely: the Temple Mound is 50-odd feet high (I didn't make it to Teotihuacán last year but this mound was pretty impressive)
• Columbus, Georgia: the museum was mostly closed for rehabilitation but the Corn Center at Columbus State University had a Lennart Anderson show and several large Bo Bartlett paintings on view; downtown Columbus has a handsome new formalist Government Center that reminded me of Yamasaki and a performing arts center designed by Hardy Holzman Pfeiffer; the symphony here is the second oldest in the U.S.
• Bremen, Georgia: El Morelia Mexican restaurant was just across from the Tractor Supply, near the Quality Inn
• Bremen to Rome: just the beginning of the international city names; U.S. 27 up the western side of Georgia was mostly four lane and divided highway and virtually empty; it was quite a surprise to re-enter the interstate world after Rome, Georgia

Continuing to repeat last year's road trip, at a certain point I quit dawdling and interstated most of the rest of the northward journey. This year, I did a more inland trip, skirting Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Lexington, Kentucky. I stopped at Dry Ridge, Kentucky, because it was getting dark, it was about 25 miles south of greater Cincinnati, and it was just south of Sherman, Kentucky. It also happened to be just north of The Ark Experience in Williamstown, Kentucky. I did go look through the gates to The Ark but it wasn't open and I probably wouldn't have gone in even if it had been. Anyway, I looked around Sherman a bit and took a couple pictures.

I had started seeing snow alongside the road but it was bright and the snow was melting. I skirted Cincinnati, Columbus, and Cleveland, Ohio. One more night on the road, in Painesville, Ohio, and then back to the blue highways in Salamanca, New York, for the last couple hours.

Beyond Bremen, Rome, and Salamanca, I also went through or saw signs for Paris, London, Chatsworth, Florence, Berlin, and Athens, and Ringgold.

Top picture is a church (no sign) in Sherman, Kentucky. The bottom picture is Ca' d'Zan, the Ringling mansion, Sarasota, Florida. More pictures at https://www.flickr.com/photos/56294332@N00/.