Jan. 15th, 2019 04:20 pm
Wild Chicago
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muckefuckMy depression may be ruining my house but at least it's not trapping me in it. As it compensating for last week's stay-at-homeness, I got out all three days.
Friday was a happy hour at the Anvil. It was small turnout but I was ready for some release after a long week back at work. Someone had loaded the jukebox with good dancy songs and I was on my feet a lot. I ended up playing two songs myself: "Just Like Honey" by the Jesus & Mary Chain and "Genius of Love" by Tom Tom Club. The latter came on just as everyone was leaving but a small coterie kept me company until the end.
I ended up having four drinks in a little over two hours which didn't really hit me until we were at the gringo taqueria across the street. The room was still spinning as I betook myself to bed a couple hours later. I thought I'd have a terrible hangover upon waking up (I'd unintentionally mixed alcohols due to a crystal skull shot from a friend and mystery shot from the bartender) but it wasn't so bad.
It's not like I had much planned that day, just coffee with the bears. It struck me this time how well-integrated I felt. I was the centre of attention a couple times and more people were calling me by name. Unfortunately, I couldn't interest anyone else in a stroll along the lakeshore so I headed out alone.
The wind was fierce and the snow particles were icy, but it was worth it for the waves and the solitude. Some woman was out on the beach feeding pigeons. I trekked up to Granville hoping to beardgop at home and watch the waves from glassed-in comfort, but I was foiled by his unexpected plans-having.
Sunday I met up withbunj, tyrannio, and innerdoggie to take in a show of contemporary Indian art in the soon-to-be renovated Hall of the American Indian. If I'd ever been there before, I don't recall it, which is just as well because it is dire. The exhibits are virtually unchanged from the 50s, just artifacts (original? reconstruction?) with next to nothing in the way of context.
Stumbling into the Pawnee Earth Lodge, we found out that one reason for this is that the cases are so old that some can't be opened without being completely dismantled. The Lodge is a good example of what American Indian exhibits should be: an interactive reconstruction of American Indian life with well-informed docents on hand to answer questions--and we posed some tough ones. ("Where did they poop?") The cuter of the two bears working that afternoon called it "the best conversation I've had all day", which made mine.
The Pacific Northwest gallery had a different problem: too much. It was like a Salishan Louvre, with just so many examples of every sort of object that it was difficult to appreciate any of them, let alone take in the reams of descriptive information on offer. I'd somehow forgotten Boas' association with the Field and just how much non-linguistic material he'd managed to amass. We all megoed quickly and made our escape right at sunset.
Friday was a happy hour at the Anvil. It was small turnout but I was ready for some release after a long week back at work. Someone had loaded the jukebox with good dancy songs and I was on my feet a lot. I ended up playing two songs myself: "Just Like Honey" by the Jesus & Mary Chain and "Genius of Love" by Tom Tom Club. The latter came on just as everyone was leaving but a small coterie kept me company until the end.
I ended up having four drinks in a little over two hours which didn't really hit me until we were at the gringo taqueria across the street. The room was still spinning as I betook myself to bed a couple hours later. I thought I'd have a terrible hangover upon waking up (I'd unintentionally mixed alcohols due to a crystal skull shot from a friend and mystery shot from the bartender) but it wasn't so bad.
It's not like I had much planned that day, just coffee with the bears. It struck me this time how well-integrated I felt. I was the centre of attention a couple times and more people were calling me by name. Unfortunately, I couldn't interest anyone else in a stroll along the lakeshore so I headed out alone.
The wind was fierce and the snow particles were icy, but it was worth it for the waves and the solitude. Some woman was out on the beach feeding pigeons. I trekked up to Granville hoping to beard
gop at home and watch the waves from glassed-in comfort, but I was foiled by his unexpected plans-having.Sunday I met up with
bunj, tyrannio, and innerdoggie to take in a show of contemporary Indian art in the soon-to-be renovated Hall of the American Indian. If I'd ever been there before, I don't recall it, which is just as well because it is dire. The exhibits are virtually unchanged from the 50s, just artifacts (original? reconstruction?) with next to nothing in the way of context.Stumbling into the Pawnee Earth Lodge, we found out that one reason for this is that the cases are so old that some can't be opened without being completely dismantled. The Lodge is a good example of what American Indian exhibits should be: an interactive reconstruction of American Indian life with well-informed docents on hand to answer questions--and we posed some tough ones. ("Where did they poop?") The cuter of the two bears working that afternoon called it "the best conversation I've had all day", which made mine.
The Pacific Northwest gallery had a different problem: too much. It was like a Salishan Louvre, with just so many examples of every sort of object that it was difficult to appreciate any of them, let alone take in the reams of descriptive information on offer. I'd somehow forgotten Boas' association with the Field and just how much non-linguistic material he'd managed to amass. We all megoed quickly and made our escape right at sunset.
no subject
no subject
I always have very mixed feelings when I see a historical collection of Indian artifacts. On the one hand, collectors may have saved many of these objects from being destroyed or disappearing into private collections. On the other, it's hard to know much about the conditions under which they were obtained. A lot of the exhibits in the PNW case concern sacred dances and you have to wonder what the participants would think about having these masks locked up for white folk to gawp at.
no subject
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/bc-first-nations-artifacts-1.3646204