2 posts tagged “art”

During a break in my ongoing battle against the damn moths that inhabit my cupboards and turn my grains (and nuts!) into disgusting breeding grounds of ooginess that destroy my best attempts to create a meal without needing a last minute run to the store, Clive and I took the girls to LACMA's new Broad museum and met up with some friends.

I love LACMA. Despite it's odd configuration. I love the windy paths and grounds, the museum store, the Japanese wing, the light at the top of the Broad's third floor, the orange lanyards for the NexGen kids campaign, and how kid-friendly it is (children are free and can take one adult for free). They also have a yummy cafeteria. I love walking over to the tar pits afterward and the easy parking on Sundays. It amazes me how empty the place is when we go. Maybe it's overflowing with single people at night, I don't know. But whenever I'm there I imagine what the crowd would be if we were in NYC and I'm baffled.

We had let our membership expire due to cost cutting measures but this weekend they were having a 50% off deal, so we rejoined, in hopes it will make Clive and I have more dates ( I never get to focus appropriately with the kids).

We thought the kids would love the new Broad museum, especially the Koons "balloon" sculptures and the pool toys, shiny egg, erector set bridge (by other artists). I was wrong. Spit spot was petrified of them. She liked the Twombly paintings and loved the Hirst installations (a sheep in fromaldahyde, a glass vitrine of animal skeletons, butterfly paintings), but the balloon and Michael Jackson sculptures just freaked her out (Queenie was concerned whether he was a boy or girl). Queenie also loved the Hirst room -- the "stained glass' butterfly paintings and the Spin Art circle painting. The Twombly's too. The giant Barbara Kruger elevator made a big impression on them both.

They didn't ask any questions about the big Cindy Sherman installation, and for that I was thankful. I walk the line on that sort of overt political sexuality as appropriate viewing for my girls. On the one hand, I would like them to be comfortable with the human body and  knowledgeable of how their role in society has been played out, the expectations of them, and their power to subvert them, to address them, to choose. I figure if they get used to that conversation, and those images now, then they will be stronger people as adults, stronger intellectually. On the other hand, I don't really want to have to explain a photo that includes a giant fake vagina open to the viewing public lying on top of where a real one would be on a woman dressed up in a disfiguring costume. Luckily, they were more intrigued by the giant table and chairs sculpture in the other room and I was spared.

Soon enough, they got distracted and whiny, needing bathroom breaks and  endless snacks. We ended with a chase game around the giant Serra installation and headed out for a walk.

As we were leaving we found a pigeon trapped in the big tar pit/lake in front of the La Brea Tar Pits. The kids and dads watched it struggle for a bit while the other mom and I went inside to see if someone could save it. Apparently, they used to have a boat for such rescues, but it got stuck and was retired. Now they can only save things that they can reach with a stick. The pigeon was too far in for that, and by the time we left for the cars, it could no longer be seen. Tar pit education in real time, but not a lot of fun, circle of life, or no.

I don't mean to end this on a sad note. The day was lovely. Spitspot fell asleep in the car on the way home while losing a "quiet contest," and we stopped at the pet store for some hamster supplies, and the grocery store so that I can make a decent New Year's dinner tomorrow night. Our lovely neighbor came for dinner and played with the kids and by the end of the night the kids tumbled into bed happy.

I hope when the girls are grown they have a love for museums and walks and family outings, and remember how we spent time with them, and feel lucky and loved.

I have started to look for full time work. My little part time job at the school, perfect as it is, is just not enough, even though I've managed to double my hours. I have many mixed feelings about this. Panic and super-scary are the first words that come to mind. But I've reworked my resume and put together a respectable cover letter (Thank you Watashi) and have sent it out with love into the HR abyss that is The Getty.

I have to say that the prospect of working in the arts again is pretty damn exciting. And at a museum, too! I miss having free reign of museums. As a student at the Art Institute we had a free pass to roam the galleries. Quickly, we learned the patterns of traffic, when to go to be left alone, the best make-out spots. I had time to really get to know my favorite paintings, notice when the curators moved stuff around. I miss that kind of intimacy with art. While there, I also had the chance to intern in the Prints and Drawing department. Basically I hung around scholars pulling and shelving priceless, beautiful, prints and drawings for people to view up close. Many of them were unframed. You could hold them! Hold Rembrandt etchings, hold Degas pastels, Picasso prints. Hold them right under your nose. Heaven.

In preparation for the interview (fingers crossed, please), I've been checking out what's up at the Getty, in the art world in general. It's been fun. I'm worried that if I do get the interview I'll be rusty. I've pretty much hidden from the art world the last few years other than visit some local museums. Even when I go I don't see much. That's pretty much because I can't hold Rembrandts with greasy toddler hands pulling at my clothes. I've been to the Getty numerous times, but rarely have I been able to be inside a gallery. At MOCA a few years ago Queenie jumped on a sculpture (although to her defense, it WAS a piece of flooring and looked like a play structure). That was stressful. After awhile, I stopped trying. It was too depressing, frustrating, sad.

Anyhow, wish me luck. Last time I applied for a gig there in 2004, they never called and I was terribly sure I was a good match (I was. Really).

There are some other art jobs I'm looking at. One would be working as a gal-Friday for a woman who works as an art consultant, but we've got to wait and see if she wins a big bid. The other is for MOCA. Love MOCA, too, despite the sculpture jumping incident, but worry that's a job more suited for a young childless thing who has few bills to pay and nowhere to be by 5:30. Or on weekends.

Ok. That's all for now. I'm tired.