It's November... and yes, I'm STILL talking about my internship.
It's obligatory, for a class, but making me all nostaligic-y for the joys of a steady career in the arts. God bless grad school, but I guess I would have rather made art this past weekend than have written 30 pages analyzing its distributive systems this weekend.
Ai!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Ode
I'm wrapping up my projects and trying to make sense of it all for my fall replacement...
I dusted John Dewey's head one last time...
I've bought my souvenirs...
And frankly, I've nothing more to say. Thanks for the memories, DC!
I dusted John Dewey's head one last time...
I've bought my souvenirs...
And frankly, I've nothing more to say. Thanks for the memories, DC!
Friday, August 21, 2009
When I Grow Up
Looking over my blog, I realized that I very flirtatiously said very little about "what I want to be when I grow up." Rest assured, cohort, I have nothing actually figured out. It was more a feeling inspired by my trip to Americans for the Arts: there do indeed exist organizations which simultaeneously require you to work in a cubicle AND build a working environment which is equal parts positive, friendly and driven. Melikes!
This arts education policy jazz is just so exciting! I mean, I'm impressed by the organization's ability to target in on decision-makers, and to follow-through with powerful advocacy -- for the arts!!! It resonates with me, circa 1991 (inner child), who was looking forward to high school for three reasons: the drama department, art class, and newspaper. Then Measure 13 happened, causing my district to adopt block scheduling, and as a result I couldn't take any of those classes, which were scheduled at the same time as all the college prep courses. Nowadays, my old school district doesn't even offer French anymore. It's criminal. What the hell else keeps you from doing pot and getting pregnant (simultaneously) in Gladstone, Oregon?
Career-wise, I'm in a unique position, as both an educator and an arts administrator; I know and care deeply about both fields. I love that there exist other professionals who are so competent and effective in their pursuit of implementing meaningful policy changes; policies which ripple and resonate and make a huge, often-taken-for-granted impact. The question is: do I feel that in a museum? As much as I love museums, are there any out there that have energy and impact -- not just pretty things, quiet offices and polite educational programs? Hmmm.
Arts + Education + Policy. I'd like to know more about it. I think that sounds pretty good.
This arts education policy jazz is just so exciting! I mean, I'm impressed by the organization's ability to target in on decision-makers, and to follow-through with powerful advocacy -- for the arts!!! It resonates with me, circa 1991 (inner child), who was looking forward to high school for three reasons: the drama department, art class, and newspaper. Then Measure 13 happened, causing my district to adopt block scheduling, and as a result I couldn't take any of those classes, which were scheduled at the same time as all the college prep courses. Nowadays, my old school district doesn't even offer French anymore. It's criminal. What the hell else keeps you from doing pot and getting pregnant (simultaneously) in Gladstone, Oregon?
Career-wise, I'm in a unique position, as both an educator and an arts administrator; I know and care deeply about both fields. I love that there exist other professionals who are so competent and effective in their pursuit of implementing meaningful policy changes; policies which ripple and resonate and make a huge, often-taken-for-granted impact. The question is: do I feel that in a museum? As much as I love museums, are there any out there that have energy and impact -- not just pretty things, quiet offices and polite educational programs? Hmmm.
Arts + Education + Policy. I'd like to know more about it. I think that sounds pretty good.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
the end in sight
This blog was built to describe the beauty of a summer in DC, a summer waning in its humid glory. I only just realized that it's been in the low 90's all week, because I've felt so warm and happy. Yet as an Oregonian, any mention of this temperature range is usually enough to freak me out.
Life on the Hill continues to be lovely, and I enjoy my historic house and the beautiful brick townhouses. I'm winding down on cultural excursions, mostly out of exhaustion and the desire to relax. Furthermore, I've accepted some cold, hard truths:
Life on the Hill continues to be lovely, and I enjoy my historic house and the beautiful brick townhouses. I'm winding down on cultural excursions, mostly out of exhaustion and the desire to relax. Furthermore, I've accepted some cold, hard truths:
- I will never, ever want to pay $18 for a ticket to the (private) Spy Museum.
- The Medical History Museum that no one ever visits is truly too inconvenient to visit.
- The Newseum, which retails for $17.76, will probably never be worth $17.76 so long as I'm living off a student loan.
- The Textile Museum could be interesting, but so is Direct TV -- which is conveniently located in my living room, rather than somewhere off Dupont Circle.
Yep, I'm mentally checking out. I am tired of my suitcase full of clothes, tired of rationing my deodorant, and I miss my car. Twelve weeks is a weird amount of time to live somewhere: too long to sustain a tourist-mentality level of interest and curiosity, yet too short to buy another full-sized tube of toothpaste. Consequential long-term feelings of surreal displacement!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Such excitement!
After a relative lull, due to near complete burn-out (too much school followed by too much work and too little money all around), I am again indulging in extracurricular events which I will surely miss once I've left DC.
Yesterday I had the most fabulous opportunity yet -- a meeting at Americans for the Arts, and the chance to meet and talk with some mighty impressive staff: Director of Federal Affairs, the Local Arts Agency Services Coordinator, and the Arts Education Manager. Among others in Membership, Marketing, Research and Events. Long story short, I think I figured out what I'd like to do when I grow up. And I'm totally excited that someone back home set up the Emerging Leaders network in Eugene; sweeeeeet!
This afternoon, I attended a forum of the Museum Education Roundtable, titled "Museums and Schools: Compelling Collaborations and Perplexing Partnerships." VERY interesting, although of nearly equal interest was the setting -- the National Museum of Crime and Punishment. This is also the set of "America's Most Wanted," and several displays are dedicated to John Walsh.
So, Museums and Schools. Can I just reiterate that the Phillips Collection is incroyable? Today's forum was based on an upcoming issue of Museum Education; we heard three case studies of great museum-school partnership programs. The Phillips Collection's Jacob Lawrence Migration Series Program is just so great, and through, and I took many notes so as not to forget names like the Institute for Innovative Learning...
I smell a possible research re-re-proposal a-brewin'...
Yesterday I had the most fabulous opportunity yet -- a meeting at Americans for the Arts, and the chance to meet and talk with some mighty impressive staff: Director of Federal Affairs, the Local Arts Agency Services Coordinator, and the Arts Education Manager. Among others in Membership, Marketing, Research and Events. Long story short, I think I figured out what I'd like to do when I grow up. And I'm totally excited that someone back home set up the Emerging Leaders network in Eugene; sweeeeeet!
This afternoon, I attended a forum of the Museum Education Roundtable, titled "Museums and Schools: Compelling Collaborations and Perplexing Partnerships." VERY interesting, although of nearly equal interest was the setting -- the National Museum of Crime and Punishment. This is also the set of "America's Most Wanted," and several displays are dedicated to John Walsh.
So, Museums and Schools. Can I just reiterate that the Phillips Collection is incroyable? Today's forum was based on an upcoming issue of Museum Education; we heard three case studies of great museum-school partnership programs. The Phillips Collection's Jacob Lawrence Migration Series Program is just so great, and through, and I took many notes so as not to forget names like the Institute for Innovative Learning...
I smell a possible research re-re-proposal a-brewin'...
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
August already?
Hello Mom (she admits to consistently reading this, so, thanks, Mom)!
I have to make this short, as I'm trying to leave work a bit early, and no longer have Internet at home --
This past weekend I moved out of my GW dorm and into a lovely house on Capitol Hill. Glorious, glorious space! This house is a beautiful little historic house with two fireplaces on the ground floor, narrow hallways and all kinds of exciting cabinetry. And a garden with French glass doors.
Last night I attended the American Art Museum's 1934 exhibit, finally -- it was quite superb, and I love their collection of Paul Manship sculptures.
I followed this up with an NPG program -- Culture in Motion, a sort of melding of biography and the performing arts in which one actor portrayed Andy Warhol, and the actress (head of Public Programs) portrayed an interviewer.
I was prepared for it to be really bad, honestly -- something about museum theater sounds all wrong to me -- yet it was actually okay! Better than watching TV, at least. It didn't need to last for an hour and a half, and I found it bizarre that both actors had their scripts in front of them the entire time... not blatantly reading from it, but still, obviously so... and at times the script sounded informercialistic ("Why Andy, tell me what led you to react against the post-modern-abstractionists of 1950's New York!).
What was neat, though, was the fact that apparently all of "Andy's" dialogue was culled from real interviews he provided during his lifetime -- subsequently cobbled into a script for the museum, but nonetheless a rather absorbing way to communicate the artist's intentions, motivations and opinions. I learned a hell of a lot, which is good. I think there's more potential to be explored, however, and came away puzzled that I should have ever been resistant to the idea of partnerships between museums and the performing arts...
I have to make this short, as I'm trying to leave work a bit early, and no longer have Internet at home --
This past weekend I moved out of my GW dorm and into a lovely house on Capitol Hill. Glorious, glorious space! This house is a beautiful little historic house with two fireplaces on the ground floor, narrow hallways and all kinds of exciting cabinetry. And a garden with French glass doors.
Last night I attended the American Art Museum's 1934 exhibit, finally -- it was quite superb, and I love their collection of Paul Manship sculptures.
I followed this up with an NPG program -- Culture in Motion, a sort of melding of biography and the performing arts in which one actor portrayed Andy Warhol, and the actress (head of Public Programs) portrayed an interviewer.
I was prepared for it to be really bad, honestly -- something about museum theater sounds all wrong to me -- yet it was actually okay! Better than watching TV, at least. It didn't need to last for an hour and a half, and I found it bizarre that both actors had their scripts in front of them the entire time... not blatantly reading from it, but still, obviously so... and at times the script sounded informercialistic ("Why Andy, tell me what led you to react against the post-modern-abstractionists of 1950's New York!).
What was neat, though, was the fact that apparently all of "Andy's" dialogue was culled from real interviews he provided during his lifetime -- subsequently cobbled into a script for the museum, but nonetheless a rather absorbing way to communicate the artist's intentions, motivations and opinions. I learned a hell of a lot, which is good. I think there's more potential to be explored, however, and came away puzzled that I should have ever been resistant to the idea of partnerships between museums and the performing arts...
Monday, July 27, 2009
The end of an era: My life in Foggy Butt
Oh my golly! Even though it's Monday, I'm excited for the forthcoming weekend. I'll be jumping off the SS GW Ghetto-Dorm and swimmin' on over to Capitol Hill. The Hill! In a quaint house full of its own bathroom / kitchen / laundry / garden!! On the downside, I'll no longer have the thrill of walking by the White House every day, and Georgetown will be hard to get to, and I'll probably have to start taking the Metro to get to work.
Wow, I'm a yuppie!
What else will I miss about this side of town? Proximity to the Kennedy Center, the Reflecting Pool, and jogging around duck shit / the Lincoln Memorial. I will not miss the dorm's basement 7-11, which does not sell any alcohol (discovered the hard way, and I'm still a little bitter, even though it actually makes sense). I might miss the speedy Internet connection, which may powerfully impact this blog's existence... However, I hereby pledge to spend one minute watching flatscreen DirectTV in my new mansion, like a proper adult, in order to make up for every two minutes that I have spent in a dorm room, blogging on a laptop, two feet from a sink. So shameful!
It must also be nearing the end of my second month in DC, which is incredibly surprising. I feel like I've been here for two years.
Today I visited the Exhibits Central offices, which are all the hella way out in Maryland. It was pretty cool to see all their gizmos -- my absolute favorite is the 3-D copier, which they described as having the capability to "print out 3-D objects" such as a scanned human skull (!). You simply scan the real, 3-D object, and then the machine spends about 12 hours building - level by minute level - a copy of that object, using this strange fine sand and a gluey mixture. Basically, it's a machine that can sculpt anything for you. They use it to create copies of objects that can subsequently be used in the museum, either for the public to touch, or as exhibit bling.
Otherwise, I finally heard the words "Illustrator" and "Photoshop" slung casually around, and for that I was grateful. It was a pretty informative field trip.
Tomorrow: The National Archives (and work, I actually do work, but field trips are also part of my work and the safe thing to talk about).
Wow, I'm a yuppie!
What else will I miss about this side of town? Proximity to the Kennedy Center, the Reflecting Pool, and jogging around duck shit / the Lincoln Memorial. I will not miss the dorm's basement 7-11, which does not sell any alcohol (discovered the hard way, and I'm still a little bitter, even though it actually makes sense). I might miss the speedy Internet connection, which may powerfully impact this blog's existence... However, I hereby pledge to spend one minute watching flatscreen DirectTV in my new mansion, like a proper adult, in order to make up for every two minutes that I have spent in a dorm room, blogging on a laptop, two feet from a sink. So shameful!
It must also be nearing the end of my second month in DC, which is incredibly surprising. I feel like I've been here for two years.
Today I visited the Exhibits Central offices, which are all the hella way out in Maryland. It was pretty cool to see all their gizmos -- my absolute favorite is the 3-D copier, which they described as having the capability to "print out 3-D objects" such as a scanned human skull (!). You simply scan the real, 3-D object, and then the machine spends about 12 hours building - level by minute level - a copy of that object, using this strange fine sand and a gluey mixture. Basically, it's a machine that can sculpt anything for you. They use it to create copies of objects that can subsequently be used in the museum, either for the public to touch, or as exhibit bling.
Otherwise, I finally heard the words "Illustrator" and "Photoshop" slung casually around, and for that I was grateful. It was a pretty informative field trip.
Tomorrow: The National Archives (and work, I actually do work, but field trips are also part of my work and the safe thing to talk about).
Thursday, July 23, 2009
DC: Off the beaten path...
I totally neglected to mention visiting NGA's amazing exhibit, The Art of Power. It simply was an amazing achievement. NGA buddied up with the Royal Armory in Madrid (and others) to build an incredible collection of Imperial court armour; not only were there many nice, shiny suits of armour to see, but they were often coupled with paintings. I mean, paintings by masters, who copied those actual suits of armour to create paintings in which the figures wore suits of armour. Does that make sense?
Put another way, I've seen my fair share of painted knights/kings/etc., and have always wondered how much of the armour was the painter's imagination, and how much was model. This exhibit was so incredible because you could see the actual suit of armour that, say, Velazquez painted hundreds of years ago, and it's the same suit as you can see in the painting beside it and it's real and it's a foot away from me!!!! How such things can even survive history, let alone be in such beautiful condition and be assembled for such an exhibition, is really the greatness of museums. Well done, NGA curators.
Otherwise, a bout of not-altogether-healthiness has dampened my galavanting. I did attend a dance performance at the Kennedy Center, called Gimp. It was presented in conjunction with the Very Special Arts, and I'm glad I saw it -- quite poignant -- quite challenging.
By the way, if any AAd'ers have questions about how to apply for federal jobs, ask me! I spent all day in a conference about it. Really. It's so arcane that they block off six hours to explain it, en masse, to fresh interns. I guess I get it now. I also really "got" that in the world of SmAthsonian Human Resources, five days = 500 applications! It seems somewhat miraculous for anyone to get a SmAthsonian job, ever, and I'm glad I'm not one of the faceless thousands with a Master's in Art History (no offense to those with that degree).
Since last weekend was not actually my last in the dorms (this forthcoming shall be), I have compiled a very exciting list of less obvious things to do in DC. How many can I possibly accomplish? Try this on for size:
Put another way, I've seen my fair share of painted knights/kings/etc., and have always wondered how much of the armour was the painter's imagination, and how much was model. This exhibit was so incredible because you could see the actual suit of armour that, say, Velazquez painted hundreds of years ago, and it's the same suit as you can see in the painting beside it and it's real and it's a foot away from me!!!! How such things can even survive history, let alone be in such beautiful condition and be assembled for such an exhibition, is really the greatness of museums. Well done, NGA curators.
Otherwise, a bout of not-altogether-healthiness has dampened my galavanting. I did attend a dance performance at the Kennedy Center, called Gimp. It was presented in conjunction with the Very Special Arts, and I'm glad I saw it -- quite poignant -- quite challenging.
By the way, if any AAd'ers have questions about how to apply for federal jobs, ask me! I spent all day in a conference about it. Really. It's so arcane that they block off six hours to explain it, en masse, to fresh interns. I guess I get it now. I also really "got" that in the world of SmAthsonian Human Resources, five days = 500 applications! It seems somewhat miraculous for anyone to get a SmAthsonian job, ever, and I'm glad I'm not one of the faceless thousands with a Master's in Art History (no offense to those with that degree).
Since last weekend was not actually my last in the dorms (this forthcoming shall be), I have compiled a very exciting list of less obvious things to do in DC. How many can I possibly accomplish? Try this on for size:
- Art Museum of the Americas (free!)
- Textile Museum (free!)
- Visit Arlington (cemetary, presumably free)
- Attend a Nats game (it's baseball and it's $10)
- Somehow attend the famously gory Museum of Health and Medicine (giant hair balls and the bullet that killed Lincoln, free)
- National Building Museum (free!)
- National Geographic Explorer's Hall... (photography exhibits, mostly free!)
- Science Museum / National Academy of Sciences ($3 with my UO ID... sweet)
- Luce Center (because I love it too much)
- Bike ride to Mt. Vernon (entails bike rental, 16 mile trail and $15 admission)
- Visit a gallery or two
- International Spy Museum ($18... ugh)
or
- Newseum ($17.76... adorable price-gouge!)
Maybe I'm compensating for Le Week-end de Target, but my increasingly easy internship is leaving me with more and more energy to suck out of life. I guess that's mighty fine.
I am, on a more serious note, putting the time to good use -- I checked out a bunch of nerd-tastic books from the SI library, and have set up a meeting with Americans for the Arts. The American Association of Museums, mind you, has broken my heart with promises, promises, promises; and now radio silence. I guess I could storm the headquarters, but it's just an office, so it's not like I can walk around and absorb knowledge about the organization without a proper meeting. Maybe they'll pull through.
But seriously, and this will alarm my academic colleagues, I... am re-thinking my research proposal. Again. I know. I know. But ever since it followed me to DC (thanks, Patricia), I haven't had the energy to read it over again. Interesting, and I feel I've poked around quite a lot on the Internet this summer and read a lot about social networking, museums, and museum education... I guess I feel like I've learned a satisfactory amount about my subject through my own efforts this summer, so to spend nine months compiling that into a paper seems repetitive. I don't like being repetitive. I like fresh blood (academically speaking).
Which is why I'm really looking forward to Americans for the Arts. Seriously. Can improving the quality of people's lives be achieved through Facebook? Or rather, by providing kids with inspiring early experiences with the arts (via teachers who can access resources and administrators who value arts education)? As an arts adminstrator, I find myself pondering the reality of my profession, as experienced in the internship, and confronted with the question of what is truly, personally meaningful.
Research is just a big paper, I know, but it's also a platform to explore a field and ground your practice. I'd just like to be on very solid ground. And I'm paying good money to write that paper, after all.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
dorm life
I forgot this gem!
I am really happy that this may have been my last weekend in the George Washington dorms.
Example: I try really hard to eat well, despite the challenges of having no real grocery store, very few cooking utensils and a kitchen that's about 200 feet from my room (a typical dinner requires me to run back and forth at least three times, and that's on a good day).
I know I've done well when young men start collecting in the hallway, drawn by the smell of food. It's hilariously predictable. Last week one wandered in while I was making some kind of ratatouille thing, and asked if the dorm provided any cooking utensils. I said no, and to be polite, asked if he'd just moved in. "No," he said, "I've been here for three weeks; I just haven't cooked anything yet." And he stared sort of mournfully at me. I smiled, covered the pot, and ran away.
Tonight, even better: curry. Different guy comes in; some Texas douchebag who I've talked to once: "Oooh, that looks good. What have you been up to? (feigns interest in my life while staring intently at the percolating garbanzo beans) Yeah. I'm recovering; my birthday was the other night and now I'm 23ohyeaharen'tyouinyour thirties, ha ha, oh yeah...wow, that's a lot of curry." And stares meaningfully at me. Wow.
As I'm running away, another guy pops out into the hall -- "Hey, that smells good!" he wails after me.
So, yeah. Dorms are not as delightful a place to be when you're "in your thirties." ?$!#$#%@
I am really happy that this may have been my last weekend in the George Washington dorms.
Example: I try really hard to eat well, despite the challenges of having no real grocery store, very few cooking utensils and a kitchen that's about 200 feet from my room (a typical dinner requires me to run back and forth at least three times, and that's on a good day).
I know I've done well when young men start collecting in the hallway, drawn by the smell of food. It's hilariously predictable. Last week one wandered in while I was making some kind of ratatouille thing, and asked if the dorm provided any cooking utensils. I said no, and to be polite, asked if he'd just moved in. "No," he said, "I've been here for three weeks; I just haven't cooked anything yet." And he stared sort of mournfully at me. I smiled, covered the pot, and ran away.
Tonight, even better: curry. Different guy comes in; some Texas douchebag who I've talked to once: "Oooh, that looks good. What have you been up to? (feigns interest in my life while staring intently at the percolating garbanzo beans) Yeah. I'm recovering; my birthday was the other night and now I'm 23ohyeaharen'tyouinyour thirties, ha ha, oh yeah...wow, that's a lot of curry." And stares meaningfully at me. Wow.
As I'm running away, another guy pops out into the hall -- "Hey, that smells good!" he wails after me.
So, yeah. Dorms are not as delightful a place to be when you're "in your thirties." ?$!#$#%@
the fun never ends
Wow! Nearly a week has gone by with nary a post on my DC comings and goings!
According to my daily planner, on Tuesday I attended the first of my Brown Bag lunch series (which I put together for the professional benefit of the interns). The first speaker I invited was the department head with the most confusingly named department! I learned a heck of a lot about research projects going on at our museum, our use of technology, and our digital catalog. As the only graduate student in attendance, I was of course the only intern with any questions for the real, live museum professional, but that's okay.
On Wednesday, I was sent to a meeting on eldercare with a mission: determine organizations and people to whom we can contact group tours. I have an extremely vague new project, to "market group tours." Those really are the sum total of my instructions. So, away I go! I'm sure that the elderly are a great place to start, don't you? Who else has the time and interest for an activity that happens at either 11:45 am or 3:30 pm?
On the upside, I visited the National Museum of African Art. It was great! It's one of those SmAthsonians that you have to really hunt down; it's subterranean, to begin with, and sort of lost in the Castle complex. I literally ran into it by accident, actually, and I'm so glad I did. There was an amazing exhibit up, which closes this coming week -- the mythology of Mami Wata, an African water spirit whose presence has heavily influenced diaspora art. AKA, mermaids!! Very exciting stuff, and my computer is denying my ability to directly provide a link to the site, so check it out.
On Thursday, I failed to attend a screening on Handmade Nation, followed by a book signing by the author. I missed it because the event was held at the Renwick Gallery, not at the American Art Museum, which promoted the event. I know they are related, and I guess I should have double-checked on the room more than 10 minutes before I intended to leave the office, but still. It's sad. But why did they schedule it for 12:00 pm anyway? What a dumb time! The prime demographic -- crafty young women such as myself, I presume -- are also working ladies who would have to sacrifice their lunch hour in order to attend, so it's doubly strange that the event happened in Foggy Bottom as opposed to the centrally located, downtown museum... whatever. Wouldn't it be interesting to ask the public programmers what they were thinking?
On Friday I only popped in to the office for an hour. My supervisor gave me the OK for this, so I conducted an extensive self-guided tour of the National Gallery of Art. Yes, I've been in before, but it's huge and to know you can spend all day inside is just amazing. If you're a geek like me. Anyway, I made it over to the East Building for the first time; home of "modern art" and an incredibly weird waste of space. Literally; the building is amazing but also amazingly empty. I learned that I hate Philip Guston and adore Stanley William Hayter. It rained. I attended another IMAX film, on dinosaurs. The fun never ends.
Saturday: The Phillips Collection turns out to be one of the absolute best places in DC, hands down. I loved the collection, the philosophy, the exhibits -- Paint Made Flesh is the title, I believe -- and the fact that I got in for free. It's in Dupont Circle, which is a great neighborhood with a tiny bookstore named Kramerbooks. People here seem to be very excited about Kramerbooks, with good reason; it's not pretentious at all and has lots of lovely books / a bar. However, it's the size of my appartment (back home). If they ever visit Powell's, they will never again be content with their lifestyle, I thought to myself, pitying the East Coasters.
But it was nice, and I attended a BBQ full of international relations workers. Boy. I can't remember rightly what me and my friends back home discuss during a Saturday night BBQ, but it's rarely abortion and the implications of ostentatious gay pride parades (does it help or hinder the gay rights movement? Discuss!). I, meanwhile, wonder if anyone in the party is interested in Ovid. I can talk to you about Ovid. The Venezualan economy? After three drinks? Boy. After awhile, my inner anthropologist just kicks back and enjoys the show.
Gosh, I really need to update more, because I'm tired of writing... but STILL NOT DONE!! Because in DC, the fun never ends.
Today I crawled all over Georgetown. It's so cute. I love the architecture and the tiny little houses, and upscale shops and wholesale snobbery. Rich people do some things right, after all, like Dumbarton Oaks! I just kind of ran into it -- that happens a lot, I guess -- and lo and behold, there's a museum inside full of Byzantine, Greek and pre-Columbian art! Right up my alley, folks! I was very excited, of course. And of nearly equal excitement is the fact that for a mere $5, you can frolic on their extensive garden grounds. I felt very Elizabeth Bennett about the whole thing, and read my book whilst overlooking the Lover's Lane Pool, as the summer sun sank into the embrace of an azure sky.
Up next: am I going to New York City next weekend? Am I??
According to my daily planner, on Tuesday I attended the first of my Brown Bag lunch series (which I put together for the professional benefit of the interns). The first speaker I invited was the department head with the most confusingly named department! I learned a heck of a lot about research projects going on at our museum, our use of technology, and our digital catalog. As the only graduate student in attendance, I was of course the only intern with any questions for the real, live museum professional, but that's okay.
On Wednesday, I was sent to a meeting on eldercare with a mission: determine organizations and people to whom we can contact group tours. I have an extremely vague new project, to "market group tours." Those really are the sum total of my instructions. So, away I go! I'm sure that the elderly are a great place to start, don't you? Who else has the time and interest for an activity that happens at either 11:45 am or 3:30 pm?
On the upside, I visited the National Museum of African Art. It was great! It's one of those SmAthsonians that you have to really hunt down; it's subterranean, to begin with, and sort of lost in the Castle complex. I literally ran into it by accident, actually, and I'm so glad I did. There was an amazing exhibit up, which closes this coming week -- the mythology of Mami Wata, an African water spirit whose presence has heavily influenced diaspora art. AKA, mermaids!! Very exciting stuff, and my computer is denying my ability to directly provide a link to the site, so check it out.
On Thursday, I failed to attend a screening on Handmade Nation, followed by a book signing by the author. I missed it because the event was held at the Renwick Gallery, not at the American Art Museum, which promoted the event. I know they are related, and I guess I should have double-checked on the room more than 10 minutes before I intended to leave the office, but still. It's sad. But why did they schedule it for 12:00 pm anyway? What a dumb time! The prime demographic -- crafty young women such as myself, I presume -- are also working ladies who would have to sacrifice their lunch hour in order to attend, so it's doubly strange that the event happened in Foggy Bottom as opposed to the centrally located, downtown museum... whatever. Wouldn't it be interesting to ask the public programmers what they were thinking?
On Friday I only popped in to the office for an hour. My supervisor gave me the OK for this, so I conducted an extensive self-guided tour of the National Gallery of Art. Yes, I've been in before, but it's huge and to know you can spend all day inside is just amazing. If you're a geek like me. Anyway, I made it over to the East Building for the first time; home of "modern art" and an incredibly weird waste of space. Literally; the building is amazing but also amazingly empty. I learned that I hate Philip Guston and adore Stanley William Hayter. It rained. I attended another IMAX film, on dinosaurs. The fun never ends.
Saturday: The Phillips Collection turns out to be one of the absolute best places in DC, hands down. I loved the collection, the philosophy, the exhibits -- Paint Made Flesh is the title, I believe -- and the fact that I got in for free. It's in Dupont Circle, which is a great neighborhood with a tiny bookstore named Kramerbooks. People here seem to be very excited about Kramerbooks, with good reason; it's not pretentious at all and has lots of lovely books / a bar. However, it's the size of my appartment (back home). If they ever visit Powell's, they will never again be content with their lifestyle, I thought to myself, pitying the East Coasters.
But it was nice, and I attended a BBQ full of international relations workers. Boy. I can't remember rightly what me and my friends back home discuss during a Saturday night BBQ, but it's rarely abortion and the implications of ostentatious gay pride parades (does it help or hinder the gay rights movement? Discuss!). I, meanwhile, wonder if anyone in the party is interested in Ovid. I can talk to you about Ovid. The Venezualan economy? After three drinks? Boy. After awhile, my inner anthropologist just kicks back and enjoys the show.
Gosh, I really need to update more, because I'm tired of writing... but STILL NOT DONE!! Because in DC, the fun never ends.
Today I crawled all over Georgetown. It's so cute. I love the architecture and the tiny little houses, and upscale shops and wholesale snobbery. Rich people do some things right, after all, like Dumbarton Oaks! I just kind of ran into it -- that happens a lot, I guess -- and lo and behold, there's a museum inside full of Byzantine, Greek and pre-Columbian art! Right up my alley, folks! I was very excited, of course. And of nearly equal excitement is the fact that for a mere $5, you can frolic on their extensive garden grounds. I felt very Elizabeth Bennett about the whole thing, and read my book whilst overlooking the Lover's Lane Pool, as the summer sun sank into the embrace of an azure sky.
Up next: am I going to New York City next weekend? Am I??
Monday, July 13, 2009
No cute title tonight
Wow, last week was frickin' busy! I really did do all of the stuff I bragged about potentially doing. I guess I won't rehash it all, but two -- no, wait, three moments -- glow in my memory, like a DC firefly:
- Quote: "It's not aesthetic, it's... [grimaces] sociological." This from a Hirshorn curator, who looks my age and whined for an hour an a half about how torturous the Venice Bienalle show evidently was this year. The Washington Post art critic commiserated. Who f*cking whines about spending two weeks at an art show in Venice? It was fabulous listening to them, though, because now I can better discuss modern art: "Dear god, it's just too coy/sentimental/trite/superficial/precious/sociological."
- The Holocaust Museum is one of the best/most important museums I've ever visited. It's narrative structure is incredible and collections compelling, obviously. But just as obviously, it is an emotionally draining experience, and I took the rest of my day off work. That's all I'll say on that.
- Samantha Craine and the Midnight Shivers are a great band, and I became their weekend groupie because I managed to see them twice. Check 'em out!
- Dammit! A baby tomato just maliciously burst onto my white camisole!!! That's the third shirt I have ruined since arriving here. Seriously. People wonder why I have so many clothes; this is why; I cannot be trusted. Stupid, stupid, stupid tomato. It's not the fork's fault.
Oh yeah:
5. ... and I visited The White House! Hurrah!
On Saturday. It turns out that your reservation, made 4-6 months in advance, gets you a fabulous, explanatory map and a brief chance to walk through the East Wing only. No purses, no pictures, no cameras. I have no proof that I was there, which really sucks. I mean, fine, maybe I could have snuck some cell phone pictures, but when they say "no pictures" I tend to believe that they mean it; I would not f*ck with the Secret Service. I walk by the WH every single day on my way to work, mind you, and it's not exactly a friendly atmosphere -- those cops will yell at you like crazy. So I can't imagine that the security guards inside are any nicer.
Anyway, it was very nicely furnished and shockingly small. That press room is so wee! The ball room, the state rooms, the grand hallway -- so very wee. Which is good, because the American president's home should not be the same size as Versailles. Even if the decor is heavily French and reminiscent of a monarchy.
So, after all of those overly exciting events, my old heart wanted to do nothing more on Sunday than take leisurely cat naps and visit Target. It's the least touristy thing I've done since I've been here, and thank god. I mean, you can't top the WH, right? Now it's time to sit back and put on the metaphorical sweatpants of daily life.
Speaking of my internship, I had a good chat today with the Sup about public programming, and the annoying trend of planning for the toddler demographic. I think I won her heart when I said "Paper plate art... can be done by any bad babysitter in this nation," a mocking reference to some rather uninspired public programming of late presented by certain museums in the nation's capital. Seriously. Museums aren't about providing crayons and butcher paper.
Side note: I enjoy being city-surly! I turned around and glared at a couple who were conversing on a sidewalk today. Really, really glared at them. They deserved it, because she was on her bike and taking up the whole damn sidewalk and did not move, by God. Yeah, they saw me coming. But I bet they didn't anticipate that stone-cold glare! I'm hoping that if I go back to that block tomorrow, I'll discover them frozen, Medusa-like, by my city-surly-looking powers.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Projected plans for early July
Monday: Errands Day (put on jogging clothes, but neglect to jog).
Tuesday: Watch a discussion on the work of Jean Shin, led by a conservationist from Lunder, the artist herself and an AAM curator.
Wednesday: Smithsonian Intern Ice Cream Social at the Postal Museum. This excitement will be followed up by docent training, on the forthcoming Daguerre exhibit.
Thursday: Options include a curator-led talk about Margaret Sanger (oooh, controversy!) or a panel discussion over at the Hirshorn, whose theme is basically "art critics vs. curators."
Friday: Morning field trip to the US Holocaust Museum with the interns. Evening plans may include an IMAX show or the Jazz Garden, if I have any energy left.
Saturday: Here's hoping that my special tour of a certain world-famous house won't be cancelled...
Sunday: The Lord's Day, of course. Reflect heavily on all the important work I have accomplished, such as background checks, flyer designs, networking, and receiving my Smithsonian library card.
Tuesday: Watch a discussion on the work of Jean Shin, led by a conservationist from Lunder, the artist herself and an AAM curator.
Wednesday: Smithsonian Intern Ice Cream Social at the Postal Museum. This excitement will be followed up by docent training, on the forthcoming Daguerre exhibit.
Thursday: Options include a curator-led talk about Margaret Sanger (oooh, controversy!) or a panel discussion over at the Hirshorn, whose theme is basically "art critics vs. curators."
Friday: Morning field trip to the US Holocaust Museum with the interns. Evening plans may include an IMAX show or the Jazz Garden, if I have any energy left.
Saturday: Here's hoping that my special tour of a certain world-famous house won't be cancelled...
Sunday: The Lord's Day, of course. Reflect heavily on all the important work I have accomplished, such as background checks, flyer designs, networking, and receiving my Smithsonian library card.
Arlington
A brief introduction to the frontier-like danger of the greater DC metropolitan area:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4T1RMuoQnKo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4T1RMuoQnKo
Monday, July 6, 2009
Post 4th: Me Barry, Neil.
I did not make it out to Artomatic this weekend. My afternoon plans wrinkled up (aka, a fire alarm cancelled the movie we had bought tickets to see on the Big Day Off), which consequently led to other lazy Fursday activities, which bumped Artomatic, which I dimly remembered on Sunday evening. Ah well. I'll pretend it was nine stories worth of Thomas Kincade / American-flag-wrapped-puppy art.
I did manage to have a great informational interview, on Fursday morning, with the Education director of a certain non-profit museum in town, whose collection is pretty great (aka, European). She has a degree in Arts Administration, too! We commiserated over art historians.
The 4th of July in Washington, Distrct of Columbia?!?!? Just how amazing is that, you ask? Well, I avoided most public festivities, so I really can't vouch for it. I did not join the typical "fustercluck of humanity on America's Mall;" instead it was a dinner party on Capitol Hill. The big concert was being broadcast in the background of this intimate, elite event; we leisurely strolled over to the Capitol once Barry Manilow appeared on the telly -- oh, how I was excited to hear the live sweet strains of Barry, drifting up the hill (like acidophilus)! -- but alas, the program's time delay was deceptively long. We showed up to hear no Barry, and see only half the fireworks (slightly obscured by the blinding lights of the concert directly below us). No Barry, I tell you! I watched one lonely drunk girl pump her fist to the silent show of sky-fire; then we headed back to the appartment for more tapenade and shrimp.
Where, amazingly, the fireworks were still on the television! And un-ironically accompanied by Neil Diamond's "Coming to America," which almost literally killed me.
Still, I am counting my blessings: no blood, shattered glass, firework mishaps or 911 calls this year! In my immediate vicinity, at least.
Also of general interest: MTV's "Real World: DC" is now filming in Adams Morgan, and on Sunday I witnessed filming. It was creeeeeeeepy. I and a mystery friend were simply walking through a quiet residential neighborhood on a mellow weekend evening, when we noticed three camera men running backwards before a group of overly angular and well-dressed tweens. I mean, young adults. We saw the whole cast; evidently an "action shot" of them walking together, in total silence, down a silent street. Being gawked at by people like me (less angular thanks to pasta). Based on this glimpse, I believe their names will prove to be Jack, Noho, Shannika, Skot, Allyson, Pug, and Blanket. Their house is very large, and conveniently located near a mini-Safeway.
That's not the "Real World: DC" at all, yo! Which reminds me, I need tomatoes.
I did manage to have a great informational interview, on Fursday morning, with the Education director of a certain non-profit museum in town, whose collection is pretty great (aka, European). She has a degree in Arts Administration, too! We commiserated over art historians.
The 4th of July in Washington, Distrct of Columbia?!?!? Just how amazing is that, you ask? Well, I avoided most public festivities, so I really can't vouch for it. I did not join the typical "fustercluck of humanity on America's Mall;" instead it was a dinner party on Capitol Hill. The big concert was being broadcast in the background of this intimate, elite event; we leisurely strolled over to the Capitol once Barry Manilow appeared on the telly -- oh, how I was excited to hear the live sweet strains of Barry, drifting up the hill (like acidophilus)! -- but alas, the program's time delay was deceptively long. We showed up to hear no Barry, and see only half the fireworks (slightly obscured by the blinding lights of the concert directly below us). No Barry, I tell you! I watched one lonely drunk girl pump her fist to the silent show of sky-fire; then we headed back to the appartment for more tapenade and shrimp.
Where, amazingly, the fireworks were still on the television! And un-ironically accompanied by Neil Diamond's "Coming to America," which almost literally killed me.
Still, I am counting my blessings: no blood, shattered glass, firework mishaps or 911 calls this year! In my immediate vicinity, at least.
Also of general interest: MTV's "Real World: DC" is now filming in Adams Morgan, and on Sunday I witnessed filming. It was creeeeeeeepy. I and a mystery friend were simply walking through a quiet residential neighborhood on a mellow weekend evening, when we noticed three camera men running backwards before a group of overly angular and well-dressed tweens. I mean, young adults. We saw the whole cast; evidently an "action shot" of them walking together, in total silence, down a silent street. Being gawked at by people like me (less angular thanks to pasta). Based on this glimpse, I believe their names will prove to be Jack, Noho, Shannika, Skot, Allyson, Pug, and Blanket. Their house is very large, and conveniently located near a mini-Safeway.
That's not the "Real World: DC" at all, yo! Which reminds me, I need tomatoes.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Fursday is Awesome!
Fursday is what I dub the Thursdays preceding Federal holiday Fridays. Today was a very happy Fursday!
It began with my first gallery check, which turned out to not mean leisurely walking around the museum before hours, ensuring that everything looks lovely and is accounted for. I was handed a Swiffer (tm), a rag and Brillianize and was instructed to 1. Check the galleries and 2. Dust the artwork / wipe down the plexiglass cases.
Yes, it is pathetic that I was instantly excited about this. But I like art, and I like to play house, and I like the fact that I was allowed to (sort of) touch priceless and incredible works of real, real art. By touch, I guess I mean Swiffer (tm). I swiffered Marcel Duchamp's face! I swiffered Bob Hope! Through plexiglass!!!
Next I joined a tour (which I coordinated) of the Lunder Conservation Center. Conservation is amazing. This center is absolutely beautiful, and it was very exciting to see x-rays of John McQueen basketry and marble statues whose appendages had broken off during unloading (foot re-attached, hand still disembodied). Our guide was excellent, too, and I know I learned more about museum collections and conservation in one hour at LCC than I have all year at UO. Sorry, school, but sometimes practice defeats theory.
I tried to attend the famed Penn Quarter farmer's market, but -- I have learned that a "farmer's market" in DC actually translates as "one block's worth of fresh produce, but mostly stupid flowers and Buffalo steaks."
Saddened, I visited Georgetown, because Zara and Anthropologie usually cheer me up. They did. I topped off the lovely day with a visit to Five Guys and ohmygoditwasreallysogood. The beef melted in my mouth like delicious, buttery animal flesh, topped with grilled onions and grilled mushrooms.
And now it's evening, and I must get a bit of research done so that when I meet the Education Director of the National Museum of Women in the Arts tomorrow morning, their take on public programming will be fresh in my mind.
Happy 4th of July!
It began with my first gallery check, which turned out to not mean leisurely walking around the museum before hours, ensuring that everything looks lovely and is accounted for. I was handed a Swiffer (tm), a rag and Brillianize and was instructed to 1. Check the galleries and 2. Dust the artwork / wipe down the plexiglass cases.
Yes, it is pathetic that I was instantly excited about this. But I like art, and I like to play house, and I like the fact that I was allowed to (sort of) touch priceless and incredible works of real, real art. By touch, I guess I mean Swiffer (tm). I swiffered Marcel Duchamp's face! I swiffered Bob Hope! Through plexiglass!!!
Next I joined a tour (which I coordinated) of the Lunder Conservation Center. Conservation is amazing. This center is absolutely beautiful, and it was very exciting to see x-rays of John McQueen basketry and marble statues whose appendages had broken off during unloading (foot re-attached, hand still disembodied). Our guide was excellent, too, and I know I learned more about museum collections and conservation in one hour at LCC than I have all year at UO. Sorry, school, but sometimes practice defeats theory.
I tried to attend the famed Penn Quarter farmer's market, but -- I have learned that a "farmer's market" in DC actually translates as "one block's worth of fresh produce, but mostly stupid flowers and Buffalo steaks."
Saddened, I visited Georgetown, because Zara and Anthropologie usually cheer me up. They did. I topped off the lovely day with a visit to Five Guys and ohmygoditwasreallysogood. The beef melted in my mouth like delicious, buttery animal flesh, topped with grilled onions and grilled mushrooms.
And now it's evening, and I must get a bit of research done so that when I meet the Education Director of the National Museum of Women in the Arts tomorrow morning, their take on public programming will be fresh in my mind.
Happy 4th of July!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
MOMA: I See...
This nearly brought a tear to my twinklin' Irish eye:
http://www.moma.org/explore/multimedia/videos/37/272
Thanks, Britney! And Megan, for finding it and from whom I poached the link...
http://www.moma.org/explore/multimedia/videos/37/272
Thanks, Britney! And Megan, for finding it and from whom I poached the link...
almost a major American holiday...
I. I'd like to point out that it's been a full three weeks in DC as of today, and my feet are still acting like incredibly stupid and needy Golden Labs. I just can't shake 'em! Band-aids have become my substitute layer of flesh!! Kevin found me in a park last night, wimpering because I didn't want to make the new blisters any worse. Four band-aids later, we hobbled over to check out my potentially new habitation on Capitol Hill.
Context: I'm living in a dorm on the GW campus, three blocks from the White House. Although the location can't be beat (in terms of Trader Joe proximity), I... find this dorm... rather gross. There's historic charm, and then there's dilapidated crap. I live in the latter. They apparently repainted my room while I was at work yesterday; this I know because of the white paint splattered all over two shirts I had left on my bed. I'll not repeat my tirade about that matter in print.
I had to move in August anyway, so just so y'all know -- I'm going to abandon GW a bit early and essentially house-sit for a husband-wife teaching artist team, who are away for residencies in August. They have a sincerely beautiful house on Capitol Hill, so I'll be able to watch fireflies in the evening and have a nice big kitchen and do laundry without fretting over my quarter supply. This is very good news.
II. Intern stuff: well, it's true: Big Brother is watching you. During happy hour with the interns tonight (in Georgetown!), I learned that one of the PR intern's tasks is to monitor how much a certain museum's name pops up in people's personal blogs. I totally understand why the museum would want to track such information; it's like tracking down honest, unsolicited comment cards on the Web -- at the same time, it pays to be prudent -- or altogether silent -- about all things professional whilst on the Web. Ahem.
So let's keep it frivolous, and talk incessantly about my feet and my food supply!
Oh, and a modern dance performance I saw today, for free, at the Shakespeare Theatre Company. Pretty amazing way to spend one's lunch hour.
Context: I'm living in a dorm on the GW campus, three blocks from the White House. Although the location can't be beat (in terms of Trader Joe proximity), I... find this dorm... rather gross. There's historic charm, and then there's dilapidated crap. I live in the latter. They apparently repainted my room while I was at work yesterday; this I know because of the white paint splattered all over two shirts I had left on my bed. I'll not repeat my tirade about that matter in print.
I had to move in August anyway, so just so y'all know -- I'm going to abandon GW a bit early and essentially house-sit for a husband-wife teaching artist team, who are away for residencies in August. They have a sincerely beautiful house on Capitol Hill, so I'll be able to watch fireflies in the evening and have a nice big kitchen and do laundry without fretting over my quarter supply. This is very good news.
II. Intern stuff: well, it's true: Big Brother is watching you. During happy hour with the interns tonight (in Georgetown!), I learned that one of the PR intern's tasks is to monitor how much a certain museum's name pops up in people's personal blogs. I totally understand why the museum would want to track such information; it's like tracking down honest, unsolicited comment cards on the Web -- at the same time, it pays to be prudent -- or altogether silent -- about all things professional whilst on the Web. Ahem.
So let's keep it frivolous, and talk incessantly about my feet and my food supply!
Oh, and a modern dance performance I saw today, for free, at the Shakespeare Theatre Company. Pretty amazing way to spend one's lunch hour.
Friday, June 26, 2009
A Friggin' Great Week.
Oh, the dizzying excitement of Intern and Docent Program Management! I must say, this week was quite busy in terms of all my little projects and events, and it felt all so Smithsoniany.
So: working for a large museum really does seem to mean that you're going to be rather constrained to your own department, but fortunately my position inherently requires interaction with every department and every supervisor. I tried to work that angle this week; I invitee our Exhibitions director in to talk with the interns about her position with NPG. I was absorbed by both her description of her tremendously huge and complex job, as well as amazed by her career path -- she began as an admin assistant, and earned a degree in Arts Administration (!) only four years ago.
That was Tuesday. On Wednesday I attended a pan-institutional panel presentation about strategic collaborations. Although it wasn't perhaps the most accessible speech, what I found intriguing were the audience reactions to the top-level presentation -- "strategic collaborations" are clearly important and necessary in the big picture, but I was reminded that within an institution as big as SI, the mere feat of accomplishing museum-museum collaboration is itself both daunting and the daily reality faced by the majority of museum employees.
I also attended the Folklife Festival (Welsh poetry and pints on the Mall!) right after using up my weekly IMAX ticket (Deep Sea 3D). The Folklife Festival is as much as it can be. I'm not critiquing it too much; I'm just saying that I have a newfound respect for myself and my former FAIS staff, because quite frankly we were able to put on a pretty comparable event without the benefit of a $------- budget. I guess I was hoping for more than a handful of tents where groups of tourists awkwardly stood around an artisan, but in terms of a program model that facilitates a cultural education event for thousands of transient tourists, in 90 degree weather in the middle of a dusty, unshaded field ... well, I guess they accomplish their goals. And it's cool to see traditional artisans being supported and all that. I guess there's just no substitute for the real thing, which is a fairly insurmountable challenge.
Oh, and they're filming a Paul Rudd movie in DC, and they were setting up a film shoot outside my happy hour on Thursday. But Paul didn't appear. Why must he play with my heart?
But the more important thing I should document about Thursday (pre-Happy Hour) was the Smithsonian Intern Networking Fair. Kassia: thank you. Thank you for the AAA Symposium last Spring, in which I took cheesy workshops on networking that -- holy cow! -- PAID OFF. I networked like a muthaf*cka and came home with about six business cards in my pocket. And, adorably, my undergraduate interns clung to my side like nervous little lambs, so I gave them an impromptu "go get 'em" talk about elevator speeches. Me, telling people how to benefit from a networking fair. I tell ya, if I hadn't attended last Spring I too would have been nervous and self-effacing. But now I'm a beast! A beast!!
I had a chance also to visit the National Museum of the American Indian (it's true, the fried bread is amazing) and the National Gallery of Art. NMAI deserves a trip back; sadly I only had time for one floor, but I rather loved its honest and to-the-point presentation of how badly Natives have been screwed by a lethal combo of guns, bibles and disease. It's truly an amazing and brave exhibit -- geez, and there are still three floors to visit!
Oh, National Gallery. I love you so much. I love your European art, because that's what I've studied and lovelovelove. So pretty. Oh Vermeer, and Leyster, and El Greco and Boucher. Everyone who got an internship there pretty must have began studying art history whilst in the womb, I guess; they'd better appreciate where they are. Again, I only had an hour, but I happily devoted it to 16th century Italian/French ornamental sculpture and ceramics. So intent was I studying some plates that illustrate scenes from Ovid's Metamorphosis that a security guard came over and asked if I am studying them in school. No, teaching them, I said. "Wait, what? How old are you, girl? You can't be a day past 21." Hee hee!
I next attended Jazz in the NGA Sculpture Garden for 45 minutes, which is insane given how hot and sweaty the earth gradually became... but it's fun to sit beneath a giant rabbit sculpture and listen to Georgetown types talk about their upcoming weekend "on the boat." I considered powering on to finally visit Artomatic tonight, an artist's co-op with some good buzz, but in the end nature chased me back to my dorm room with a wind-whipped frenzy of hail, thunder and lightning. Weather here be crazy.
Tomorrow I'm really serious about getting into free Saturdays at the Corcoran, but I have also neglected the shops of Georgetown for far too long. And there's that whole Vietnam War Memorial to find, and I just learned that there's a mall near the Pentagon. I've got a lot of mixed up priorities.
So: working for a large museum really does seem to mean that you're going to be rather constrained to your own department, but fortunately my position inherently requires interaction with every department and every supervisor. I tried to work that angle this week; I invitee our Exhibitions director in to talk with the interns about her position with NPG. I was absorbed by both her description of her tremendously huge and complex job, as well as amazed by her career path -- she began as an admin assistant, and earned a degree in Arts Administration (!) only four years ago.
That was Tuesday. On Wednesday I attended a pan-institutional panel presentation about strategic collaborations. Although it wasn't perhaps the most accessible speech, what I found intriguing were the audience reactions to the top-level presentation -- "strategic collaborations" are clearly important and necessary in the big picture, but I was reminded that within an institution as big as SI, the mere feat of accomplishing museum-museum collaboration is itself both daunting and the daily reality faced by the majority of museum employees.
I also attended the Folklife Festival (Welsh poetry and pints on the Mall!) right after using up my weekly IMAX ticket (Deep Sea 3D). The Folklife Festival is as much as it can be. I'm not critiquing it too much; I'm just saying that I have a newfound respect for myself and my former FAIS staff, because quite frankly we were able to put on a pretty comparable event without the benefit of a $------- budget. I guess I was hoping for more than a handful of tents where groups of tourists awkwardly stood around an artisan, but in terms of a program model that facilitates a cultural education event for thousands of transient tourists, in 90 degree weather in the middle of a dusty, unshaded field ... well, I guess they accomplish their goals. And it's cool to see traditional artisans being supported and all that. I guess there's just no substitute for the real thing, which is a fairly insurmountable challenge.
Oh, and they're filming a Paul Rudd movie in DC, and they were setting up a film shoot outside my happy hour on Thursday. But Paul didn't appear. Why must he play with my heart?
But the more important thing I should document about Thursday (pre-Happy Hour) was the Smithsonian Intern Networking Fair. Kassia: thank you. Thank you for the AAA Symposium last Spring, in which I took cheesy workshops on networking that -- holy cow! -- PAID OFF. I networked like a muthaf*cka and came home with about six business cards in my pocket. And, adorably, my undergraduate interns clung to my side like nervous little lambs, so I gave them an impromptu "go get 'em" talk about elevator speeches. Me, telling people how to benefit from a networking fair. I tell ya, if I hadn't attended last Spring I too would have been nervous and self-effacing. But now I'm a beast! A beast!!
I had a chance also to visit the National Museum of the American Indian (it's true, the fried bread is amazing) and the National Gallery of Art. NMAI deserves a trip back; sadly I only had time for one floor, but I rather loved its honest and to-the-point presentation of how badly Natives have been screwed by a lethal combo of guns, bibles and disease. It's truly an amazing and brave exhibit -- geez, and there are still three floors to visit!
Oh, National Gallery. I love you so much. I love your European art, because that's what I've studied and lovelovelove. So pretty. Oh Vermeer, and Leyster, and El Greco and Boucher. Everyone who got an internship there pretty must have began studying art history whilst in the womb, I guess; they'd better appreciate where they are. Again, I only had an hour, but I happily devoted it to 16th century Italian/French ornamental sculpture and ceramics. So intent was I studying some plates that illustrate scenes from Ovid's Metamorphosis that a security guard came over and asked if I am studying them in school. No, teaching them, I said. "Wait, what? How old are you, girl? You can't be a day past 21." Hee hee!
I next attended Jazz in the NGA Sculpture Garden for 45 minutes, which is insane given how hot and sweaty the earth gradually became... but it's fun to sit beneath a giant rabbit sculpture and listen to Georgetown types talk about their upcoming weekend "on the boat." I considered powering on to finally visit Artomatic tonight, an artist's co-op with some good buzz, but in the end nature chased me back to my dorm room with a wind-whipped frenzy of hail, thunder and lightning. Weather here be crazy.
Tomorrow I'm really serious about getting into free Saturdays at the Corcoran, but I have also neglected the shops of Georgetown for far too long. And there's that whole Vietnam War Memorial to find, and I just learned that there's a mall near the Pentagon. I've got a lot of mixed up priorities.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Oh yeah, The Internship
I'm safely into internship zone, and what an interesting zone 'tis!
I am the Assistant Docent and Intern Program Manager for the A Certain Portrait Gallery*. This does not imply that I am in the museum, though. Sadly -- yet not untypical of many SmAthsonians* -- the actual administrative offices are located in the Victor Building, about a block from NPG. I get over to the museum for my lunch breaks, special events, and after work (museum open till 7 pm!!!). I knew this would be the situation prior to arriving, but I have to say that my particular position is not terribly dependent with being up-to-date on every event in the museum, which is not exactly what I expected. I guess I pictured museum life to be so ovelry infused with glorious art, fascinating research and exciting public programming that you it would be completely inescapable. But it's actually a business! Where things must get done so that visitors can enjoy all that glorious art!!
So, I'm fine with contributing to the behind-the-scenes network of an art world (shout out to my homeboy Beeeeeeeeeeeeeecker, boyz!).
And really, I have a very considerate supervisor. She hands me great articles on museum management, accompanies me to symposiums on museum education, and is all about supplementing my daily tasks with additional projects that will give me new skills. Moreover, I am only now beginning to exploit the power of being Intern Manager -- it occurred to me that a field trip to the American Association of Museums would be cool, so I emailed them and ... well, they emailed back with a very positive response! Hopefully I can set that up in July -- omg! Meanwhile, I guess I'll make do with the SmAthsonian* Intern networking fair, the brown bag lunch with the Exhibitions director, our tour of the PG painting and sculpture storage facility, and Thursday night curator-led talks about pieces in the collection. Oh, and spying on the Youth and Family coordinator's amazing program, which began today... and keeping tabs on PG's grasp of social networking, of course. And one of these days I'll grab a show at the IMAX.
Yey for A Certain PG*!!! :)
*Clever retroactive editing in an attempt to foil Big Brother; see July 1st post.
I am the Assistant Docent and Intern Program Manager for the A Certain Portrait Gallery*. This does not imply that I am in the museum, though. Sadly -- yet not untypical of many SmAthsonians* -- the actual administrative offices are located in the Victor Building, about a block from NPG. I get over to the museum for my lunch breaks, special events, and after work (museum open till 7 pm!!!). I knew this would be the situation prior to arriving, but I have to say that my particular position is not terribly dependent with being up-to-date on every event in the museum, which is not exactly what I expected. I guess I pictured museum life to be so ovelry infused with glorious art, fascinating research and exciting public programming that you it would be completely inescapable. But it's actually a business! Where things must get done so that visitors can enjoy all that glorious art!!
So, I'm fine with contributing to the behind-the-scenes network of an art world (shout out to my homeboy Beeeeeeeeeeeeeecker, boyz!).
And really, I have a very considerate supervisor. She hands me great articles on museum management, accompanies me to symposiums on museum education, and is all about supplementing my daily tasks with additional projects that will give me new skills. Moreover, I am only now beginning to exploit the power of being Intern Manager -- it occurred to me that a field trip to the American Association of Museums would be cool, so I emailed them and ... well, they emailed back with a very positive response! Hopefully I can set that up in July -- omg! Meanwhile, I guess I'll make do with the SmAthsonian* Intern networking fair, the brown bag lunch with the Exhibitions director, our tour of the PG painting and sculpture storage facility, and Thursday night curator-led talks about pieces in the collection. Oh, and spying on the Youth and Family coordinator's amazing program, which began today... and keeping tabs on PG's grasp of social networking, of course. And one of these days I'll grab a show at the IMAX.
Yey for A Certain PG*!!! :)
*Clever retroactive editing in an attempt to foil Big Brother; see July 1st post.
Trader Joe's: Sponsor Me
I feel like a whole person only when I have curry simmer sauce, black beans, Quaker Oatmeal Squares, and a freezer full of frozen vegetables. Thank God, therefore, for Trader Joe's.
Grocery shopping in DC is not pleasant. The lack of legitimate grocery stores, the bewildering likelihood that Safeway has sold out of sandwich meat, 15 minute checkout lines and a lack of basic produce has thus far been the source of my ever-present, cavewoman-like anxiety about basic survival. My friend checked two stores on Sunday -- no mint! Who doesn't have organic fresh mint, I ask you? How in the hell do people make mojitos??
I therefore am all the more quick to count my blessings due to the proximity of a Trader Joe's (I think seven blocks away or so; pretty much nothing unless you buy both laundry detergent and wine -- then it feels much farther). Food is important. A quality diet is even more importanter. I finally have my shallots, my multigrain pilaf, my rose salami and apriums. Such good stuff!
Even more exciting is trying to fit all of this into a dorm mini-fridge! The top of my clothes-filled dresser has converted itself into my TJ pantry. I have been "marketed like a bitch," as Chris would say (thanks, Chris). But tomorrow I get to have a spinach salad with feta vinagrette, as well as apple smoked chardonnary sausage, for lunch, and I'm going to sleep better for it.
That said, I guess I'll grant that high-quality, plentiful food is truly a shining gem in Oregon's crown, and hardly something I would have expected to have to scramble for in the nation's capital. The Safeway located in the Watergate's basement (yes, The Watergate) feels like a trip to a nihilistic third world nation. Trader Joe's is a beacon of affordable normality.
That's all I'll say about food for now. :)
Grocery shopping in DC is not pleasant. The lack of legitimate grocery stores, the bewildering likelihood that Safeway has sold out of sandwich meat, 15 minute checkout lines and a lack of basic produce has thus far been the source of my ever-present, cavewoman-like anxiety about basic survival. My friend checked two stores on Sunday -- no mint! Who doesn't have organic fresh mint, I ask you? How in the hell do people make mojitos??
I therefore am all the more quick to count my blessings due to the proximity of a Trader Joe's (I think seven blocks away or so; pretty much nothing unless you buy both laundry detergent and wine -- then it feels much farther). Food is important. A quality diet is even more importanter. I finally have my shallots, my multigrain pilaf, my rose salami and apriums. Such good stuff!
Even more exciting is trying to fit all of this into a dorm mini-fridge! The top of my clothes-filled dresser has converted itself into my TJ pantry. I have been "marketed like a bitch," as Chris would say (thanks, Chris). But tomorrow I get to have a spinach salad with feta vinagrette, as well as apple smoked chardonnary sausage, for lunch, and I'm going to sleep better for it.
That said, I guess I'll grant that high-quality, plentiful food is truly a shining gem in Oregon's crown, and hardly something I would have expected to have to scramble for in the nation's capital. The Safeway located in the Watergate's basement (yes, The Watergate) feels like a trip to a nihilistic third world nation. Trader Joe's is a beacon of affordable normality.
That's all I'll say about food for now. :)
Friday, June 19, 2009
Week One: Blood, Art, and Databases
My first real week is complete, and my narrative begins with the odyssey of my First Horrific Day.
Fresh from my hideous trip into the city, I began my jaunty walk to work -- a quick ten blocks -- wearing a nice little suit jacket and my vintage Italian heels. Starbucks in hand, I felt I was blending in well with the purposeful natives.
Until about one block past the White House. My right toe began to feel suddenly so... well, flayed. Terribly, roughly, inescapably stripped of its flesh by my darling leather shoes. Thinking myself prepared, I sat down and affixed a bandage (!) and began to limp down the street, only six blocks to go.
It turns out that the bandage was too floppy to help and in fact aggravated the right-foot-situation. This became evident when I was at least three blocks from my first day on the job, because the pressure of limping caused my LEFT foot to blow out -- same toe, opposite foot, same neon pink bald patch on my defenseless tiny toe.
I essentially met my new boss in the infirmary (conveniently located in my building's basement!), and her reaction to the situation confirmed that I'm in a good place. She re-scheduled my day so as to avoid walking (!) and arranged for me to take my first-day tour of the Portrait Gallery... in a wheelchair.
My first time in a wheelchair, mind you. Very humbling experience, particularly as this was also the first chance I had to meet my fellow interns. Yet again, people's true natures seem to come out in the most painful situations; I was pushed around by a very kind intern named Lee-Ann. Yey for Lee-Ann!
And yey for new experiences. Although it may sound cheesy, it was so insightful to take a tour in a wheelchair. I experienced my visit in a completely different way -- noting the signage, the height of the artworks, the difficulty or ease of getting around, and the behaviour of other visitors towards me. Anonymity was impossible, and asking for help was inevitable. This comical situation ultimately produced one of those "learning moments" that are supposed to be a hallmark of the internship experience...
Since then, I've settled into my cubicle and am free to run around the office, as per usual. I'm putting those organization/project management/research skills to use like crazy; and although my particular position is less connected to the actual art world of the museum then I'd prefer, it's clear to me that it'll be up to me to pursue those connections -- whether by attending art talks on Thursday nights (last night: Brian O'Doherty's talk on his portrait of Marcel Duchamp), by eavesdropping on the curatorial staff, or by volunteering my free time (Warholpolooza this weekend).
Upside of Washington DC: the chance to attend a museum educator's roundtable discussion of the Center for the Future of Museum's report on Thursday (held at the NM of the American Indian). What an amazing opportunity. I'm a total nerd.
Fresh from my hideous trip into the city, I began my jaunty walk to work -- a quick ten blocks -- wearing a nice little suit jacket and my vintage Italian heels. Starbucks in hand, I felt I was blending in well with the purposeful natives.
Until about one block past the White House. My right toe began to feel suddenly so... well, flayed. Terribly, roughly, inescapably stripped of its flesh by my darling leather shoes. Thinking myself prepared, I sat down and affixed a bandage (!) and began to limp down the street, only six blocks to go.
It turns out that the bandage was too floppy to help and in fact aggravated the right-foot-situation. This became evident when I was at least three blocks from my first day on the job, because the pressure of limping caused my LEFT foot to blow out -- same toe, opposite foot, same neon pink bald patch on my defenseless tiny toe.
I essentially met my new boss in the infirmary (conveniently located in my building's basement!), and her reaction to the situation confirmed that I'm in a good place. She re-scheduled my day so as to avoid walking (!) and arranged for me to take my first-day tour of the Portrait Gallery... in a wheelchair.
My first time in a wheelchair, mind you. Very humbling experience, particularly as this was also the first chance I had to meet my fellow interns. Yet again, people's true natures seem to come out in the most painful situations; I was pushed around by a very kind intern named Lee-Ann. Yey for Lee-Ann!
And yey for new experiences. Although it may sound cheesy, it was so insightful to take a tour in a wheelchair. I experienced my visit in a completely different way -- noting the signage, the height of the artworks, the difficulty or ease of getting around, and the behaviour of other visitors towards me. Anonymity was impossible, and asking for help was inevitable. This comical situation ultimately produced one of those "learning moments" that are supposed to be a hallmark of the internship experience...
Since then, I've settled into my cubicle and am free to run around the office, as per usual. I'm putting those organization/project management/research skills to use like crazy; and although my particular position is less connected to the actual art world of the museum then I'd prefer, it's clear to me that it'll be up to me to pursue those connections -- whether by attending art talks on Thursday nights (last night: Brian O'Doherty's talk on his portrait of Marcel Duchamp), by eavesdropping on the curatorial staff, or by volunteering my free time (Warholpolooza this weekend).
Upside of Washington DC: the chance to attend a museum educator's roundtable discussion of the Center for the Future of Museum's report on Thursday (held at the NM of the American Indian). What an amazing opportunity. I'm a total nerd.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Welcome to the District of Columbia.
Oh, the anticipation! The planning, the packing, the Google mapping... literally, this internship has been nearly a year in the making. Will it be worth it? Can I live up to my own hype? Such profound questions can really only be answered with thoughtful blog posts, made available to my dear friends and total strangers.
Let's begin by establishing a framework, dear reader(s?): I've travelled and lived abroad, I speak three languages (sometimes five), I write, draw, cook, exercise, etc. I'm from Portland, Oregon, an amazing city where the hills are green and full of artists, musicians, bohemians and bikers. All in all, I've had a pretty awesome life. So why mess it up? Why am I spending my summer in a dorm room, surviving on minute rice and instant coffee in our nation's capital? Why do I have student loans in lieu of a decent paycheck?
All valid questions. The long answer includes my childhood desire to be an artist (flattened by the standard kin denial of dreams) and the short answer is the fact that, if I have to be a responsible professional woman, I'd damn well better be doing something I like to do. I gave education a good try, but all those people who "love children" give me the heeby-jeebies. Whatever happened to loving learning? Embracing the human condition? Improving our lives through beauty and art and culture? Frankly, the more lesson plans I wrote and meaningless grades I assigned, the further I felt from the things in life that have always sustained me.
Administration -- becoming a bureaucrat -- became my unexpected lifeboat in the sea of professional identity. I know this sounds weird. But hey, I'm not the freelance type, and I never will be. I like people, I like projects, I like colleagues. I'm organized and efficient, and it's awesome to put my skills to good use about things I love -- the French American International School, for example.
Yet I needed a change, and I believe I deserve every opportunity to succeed. So, I began the Arts Administration program at UO. That's a whole other story.
I've wanted to intern at the National Portrait Gallery since the Spring of 2008, when I visited a college friend who has adopted DC as his hometown. I had no idea I'd be so impessed -- from a NW perspective, the idea of DC always brought to mind images of hideously dressed worker drones (Chico's, khaki tones and an overly thriving button-down shirt industry). It smelled like self-obsession and career-heads. I wasn't supposed to like it at all.
But oh.... the museums.
Museums are such wonderful places. I wander around them, grinning like a fool, and completely lost in the experience. We have two in Portland. DC has, like, a gazillion. And they're free. And in Washington DC there are farmer's markets, and excellent restauraunts, and perfectly nice people who aren't perhaps dressed very well, but who are at least educated and trying to do something cool with their lives. There are some fun neighbourhoods, even, and I think there might be some artists around -- I mean, there's no way this will ever be Portland, but it's not bad.
So the point is, I learned that I liked DC /DC was full of museums / museums are a good place to combine arts and administration / I therefore dedicated four months to the filling out of applications to major museums in DC. I achieved something like four offers, but I chose NPG for sentimental reasons (I could be perfectly content as a security guard, so long as I like the museum).
So, DC. It took me five hours to fly here, and four hours to travel from BMI to 19th Street NW, at which point I nearly lost my sanity in the back of a Super Shuttle. I was delirious with fatigue, excitement, jet lag and the brand of claustrophobia unique to small metal cabins.
And that's the weight that arrived on my wee shoulders!
Let's begin by establishing a framework, dear reader(s?): I've travelled and lived abroad, I speak three languages (sometimes five), I write, draw, cook, exercise, etc. I'm from Portland, Oregon, an amazing city where the hills are green and full of artists, musicians, bohemians and bikers. All in all, I've had a pretty awesome life. So why mess it up? Why am I spending my summer in a dorm room, surviving on minute rice and instant coffee in our nation's capital? Why do I have student loans in lieu of a decent paycheck?
All valid questions. The long answer includes my childhood desire to be an artist (flattened by the standard kin denial of dreams) and the short answer is the fact that, if I have to be a responsible professional woman, I'd damn well better be doing something I like to do. I gave education a good try, but all those people who "love children" give me the heeby-jeebies. Whatever happened to loving learning? Embracing the human condition? Improving our lives through beauty and art and culture? Frankly, the more lesson plans I wrote and meaningless grades I assigned, the further I felt from the things in life that have always sustained me.
Administration -- becoming a bureaucrat -- became my unexpected lifeboat in the sea of professional identity. I know this sounds weird. But hey, I'm not the freelance type, and I never will be. I like people, I like projects, I like colleagues. I'm organized and efficient, and it's awesome to put my skills to good use about things I love -- the French American International School, for example.
Yet I needed a change, and I believe I deserve every opportunity to succeed. So, I began the Arts Administration program at UO. That's a whole other story.
I've wanted to intern at the National Portrait Gallery since the Spring of 2008, when I visited a college friend who has adopted DC as his hometown. I had no idea I'd be so impessed -- from a NW perspective, the idea of DC always brought to mind images of hideously dressed worker drones (Chico's, khaki tones and an overly thriving button-down shirt industry). It smelled like self-obsession and career-heads. I wasn't supposed to like it at all.
But oh.... the museums.
Museums are such wonderful places. I wander around them, grinning like a fool, and completely lost in the experience. We have two in Portland. DC has, like, a gazillion. And they're free. And in Washington DC there are farmer's markets, and excellent restauraunts, and perfectly nice people who aren't perhaps dressed very well, but who are at least educated and trying to do something cool with their lives. There are some fun neighbourhoods, even, and I think there might be some artists around -- I mean, there's no way this will ever be Portland, but it's not bad.
So the point is, I learned that I liked DC /DC was full of museums / museums are a good place to combine arts and administration / I therefore dedicated four months to the filling out of applications to major museums in DC. I achieved something like four offers, but I chose NPG for sentimental reasons (I could be perfectly content as a security guard, so long as I like the museum).
So, DC. It took me five hours to fly here, and four hours to travel from BMI to 19th Street NW, at which point I nearly lost my sanity in the back of a Super Shuttle. I was delirious with fatigue, excitement, jet lag and the brand of claustrophobia unique to small metal cabins.
And that's the weight that arrived on my wee shoulders!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
