7/11/2013
Wow. It’s been over a year
since our last stop on our glorious quest. Much too long. Plus, new baby
Veronica needs in on the action! So, for our journey back into journeyness we
need something big. Our mission: Defeat Maryland. (Last summer it was Missouri,
now Maryland. We have a thing for those M states.) Both of our loyal readers
will recall we’ve been through Maryland here and there, but this time, let’s
make a real effort. Ok, Maryland – you’re going down!
First stop: Baltimore –
dubbed by at least one magazine as “America’s Most Dangerous City.” Patricia
has ordered us to see a lot of stuff here though, so hopefully we survive.
First up is the American
Visionary Art Museum, which prides itself on displaying the works of
nonprofessional and untrained artists. Getting there took a lot longer than I
had planned. Now that Daniel and Philip are potty trained we have to stop a lot
more often than I anticipated. I was fairly stressed out, since I was afraid we
wouldn’t make it before the museum closed, but I guess it’s better to let my
kids go to the bathroom when they need to rather than pay for their therapy
later. [If you thought I didn’t see enough
bathrooms due to past pregnancies, you were wrong. I know where they all are thanks to my
children.]
We finally arrived at the
museum about 45 minutes before their regular closing time. I was hopping around
on the street exasperated at how slow everyone seemed to be getting out of the
van. [You should see him when he is hopping around
like a bunny. It’s funny.] We eventually got inside where we learned the
museum was staying open late that night. Sweet! I opened my veins… I mean, my
wallet… to pay the outrageous admission fee ($15.95 a person!) but then the
artsy looking girl (she had those glasses, you know) working the admission desk
said that night admission was free. Oh yeah! No one likes paying for art,
visionary or otherwise. I got to keep my money, and the artists didn’t have to
feel like sell-outs.
Everything worked out
after all. Laura yelled at me for acting like such a freak out on the street,
but I couldn’t hear her over the sound of the money I had saved. [This isn’t the first time he has embarrassed me like
that.] Anyway, the museum was interesting, filled with a lot of weird
sculptures made out of weird things. Daniel and Philip kept pointing at them,
and going “Huh?” I’m sure that’s what most of the artists were going for,
actually.
One of the exhibits Laura
and I liked was a series of cross-stitches a Holocaust survivor made of her
life. They looked sort of like illustrations from Little House on the Prairie. But with Nazis. Not far from these was
some guy’s Pez dispenser collection. (How is that on the same level as Holocaust
cross-stitch? How is that even art? It’s not even a unique collection. The darn
things are designed to be collected in the first place, aren’t they? Visionary
is not the word I would use for this.) The boys and Kathleen really liked a
dinosaur made out of garbage. They actually kept mentioning it a couple of
times throughout the rest of the trip. (You’ll have to take my word on all
this, because photography is not allowed.)
(One Schultzian oddity is
worth mentioning: In the book, good old Patricia heaps praises on the gift shop
for some reason. This is kind of unusual for her, so I was interested in
finding out what the big deal was. In reality, it’s your typical “weird museum”
gift shop with the same kitschy crumola you find in all of them. Why all the
love, Patricia?)
There’s not much to this
place: Basically 3 small floors, one of which is dedicated to one guy’s
recordings of people passing gas. (It’s not about the baseness of human
existence or anything. It’s supposed to be funny. I guess.) Honestly, the
concept of the museum is fair enough – an art museum for the art of regular
people. We were happy with the experience. All we spent was $2 for the metered
parking right outside, but if we had to spend $35 for this I may have felt
differently. [I’m glad it was free that night,
otherwise I would be screaming, too.]
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