May 22, 2012 The predicted rains did not materialize, but it’s more museum today. We had long wanted to see the new-er American Indian Museum, having read a lot about it in various magazines. You can’t trust everything you read.
To get to the museum from the metro stop we had to traverse the Mall. If you watched the Inauguration last month, it probably looked pretty much as you always remembered. Well, not so back last May. It was all ripped up for various replanting, pipe replacement, and various repairs. No reflecting pool, no beautiful vista. Just a construction zone.
The Indian Museum on the outside resembles the Museum of Civilization in Ottawa, with it’s curving wall structure, that we visited on the Canadian bus tour earlier this month.
That’s the end of the similarity. The MOC was vastly superior in content and presentation. The Indian Museum easily was the biggest disappointment of this trip. It was poorly organized and frequently so dimly/poorly lit as to be unviewable. Apparently they gave a general format to every tribe under the sun, and each tribe then submitted its choice of content within that framework. The result is an endless series of airless displays that bore you to tears, often resembling an amateur effort of “throw it all on the wall and see what sticks.”
I really hate to trash the place, but we were expecting so much more. For a much better effort, visit either the Ottawa museum or the Museum of the Cherokee Indian. The cafeteria featured alleged Indian-inspired dishes which, quite frankly, looked like muck, although I will say they were flavorful. Below right is Loni’s tomato-olive-salt cod concoction, and at left my goat meat, corn, and chili melange.
Since there was little to keep us here and fill up the day, we left and wandered over to East Gallery of Art, the knife-edged building designed by I.M. Pei in his earlier career. Unfortunately, the exterior is shrouded in scaffolding for refurbishment, so you couldn’t really appreciate the architecture.
Inside, the signage was deplorable. We looked in vain for the exhibit of French paintings, and ended up asking a couple of employees how to get there. Finding a rest room was even worse. The 3rd floor guard directed us down to the 2nd level and through the steel doors. The doors were locked. The 2nd floor guard sent us to floor 4 at the opposite end of the building. I felt like just peeing over the bannister. We weren’t allowed to photograph the paintings, so all I could capture was the Calder mobile, still dangling where I last saw it 30 years ago.
All in all, not much of a day. Time to pack it in and head back to the rig.
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