I’m home

After a week filled with dear friends both old and new, a new dog you’re all lucky I didn’t dognap, favorite haunts, new museums, historical learnings that I’m still processing, a 5K along a gorgeous ocean boardwalk, delicious cooking, gallons of Diet Coke, the endless magical convenience of Uber in an unfamiliar city, and a Charlotte-to-Cedar-Rapids flight that looped over to Omaha to avoid what looks to have been an epic storm, I am home and happy and thankful and sleepy and ready to resume my regularly scheduled adventures at dawn. Good night!

So ... burning man ...

Sometimes carefully laid plans for a weirdly cool Burning Man exhibit at the Renwick followed by a pilgrimage to see the Obama portraits at the National Portrait Gallery turn into a mostly-chatting-and-half-paying-attention-to-the-arty-stuff wander through the Renwick followed by three hours of catching up at (don’t laugh) TGI Friday’s (I SAID DON’T LAUGH) with a long-lost high-school friend who is now a hella-cool adult friend who will corroborate your story that your TGI Friday’s waitress was probably the shittiest waitress ever to work on a Friday or any other day and I seriously can’t remember the last time I’ve ever left a bad tip for anyone and I used to wait tables so I ALWAYS tip extremely generously and Gareth was my first-ever crush and I just had lunch with him but I’m burying this information deep in this blathery run-on sentence so you probably skipped over that part and saved us all a bottomless swamp of paralyzing awkwardness how ‘bout them Hawkeyes I’m on vacation puppies are cute THIS PART IS IN ALL CAPS anyway where was I oh yeah the Burning Man exhibit was truly cool and breathtaking and informative for those of us who until today had no earthly idea what the hell Burning Man is even about and I totally recommend it but we both heartily do NOT recommend the nearby TGI Friday’s (STOP IT WITH YOUR DERISIVE LAUGHING) especially the slimy booth that had a metal plate over the junction box where the sconce had mysteriously been removed Exhibit A: First Selfie and catching up with Gareth was truly an awesome way to end a truly awesome vacation even through we never got to the National Portrait Gallery but we did get a selfie in front of a nearby George Washington bust Exhibit B: Second Selfie don’t worry I told him a long time ago that he was my first-ever crush and his wife has reportedly come to terms with it and is totally not threatened by me OR IS SHE and he swears it’s not awkward anymore but let the record show HE WAS THE FIRST TO BRING IT UP TODAY BUT IT’S TOO LATE THAT SHIP HAS SAILED SO STOP MAKING IT WEIRD GARETH and the Obama portraits will have to wait until next summer but except for our gaspingly inept waitress today this trip has been pretty awesome.

This sunken sculpture garden is my favorite place—which houses my favorite sculpture—in DC

It's hidden in plain sight on the Mall side of the Hirshhorn, and it provides quiet sanctuary—and welcome shade—on molten, touristy days like today. I'm not really sure what started making this sculpture—Rodin's epic "Burghers of Calais"—so particularly meaningful to me. It’s most likely the piece that finally unlocked the aesthetic, artistic and historical secrets of the broader Modernist movement for me when I took a college art-history class: its raw, muscular composition ... its marriage of Realism (which sought to represent human figures as they are instead of idealizing them) and the last dying gasps of Romanticism (the very emotion-wrought idealization that the Realists were striving to overcome) ... its accessibility from any educational and even physical perspective ... it’s just so many things on so many levels, including my newfound levels of understanding the movement. I should state that this dual Realism/Romanticism classification is solely my interpretation of the genres and the transition between them, but you cannot deny that the oversized figures in this sculpture are muscular and handsome and to a large degree idealized while still being rough-hewn, misshapen and out of proportion.

The figures are six men being led to their death to liberate the French town of Calais in the Hundred Years' War, which adds layers of fascinating historical content onto the reasons I love the work. I find it all at once intimate and epic, unfinished and uneditable, and abstract and representational, the latter of which has always been my preference in art and especially sculpture. So I make a pilgrimage to see it—I even sit in the same shady spot to contemplate it—every time I come to Rehoboth and DC. It's always a beautiful way to rest and rejuvenate and think and remember and see these decades-old friends in relative peace before my vacation ends and I head home.

Our state capitol is capitoler than your state capitol

Our gold-leafed dome shimmers on the hill:

 The staircase up to the breathtaking rotunda:

Toldja it was breathtaking:

Boobies:

A vestibule off the first floor:

A gorgeous bas-relief tribute to women crowned by an unmistakably Deco sunburst:

Another vestibule has a creepy display of dolls fetishizing the inauguration gowns of our First Ladies:

The stairs to the second floor of the rotunda:

Corn art!

The I above the House chamber windows stands for I LOVE THIS BUILDING: 

But gross. Just fucking gross. Just because an impotent man-boy climbs on his Big Wheel and hurls his feces at the adults to play president doesn’t mean we have to sully our Senate chamber walls with his festering rictus:

Patterns and textures on the second floor:

The steps to the dome, which I unfortunately didn't get to climb:

The freaking STUNNING second-floor library, ladies and gentlemen:

It has lots of books:

And a dumb waiter. For smart people. They’re smart because they read books. And they figured out a way to avoid carrying them up the steps:

And an intricate iron staircase the is the envy of the entire Industrial Revolution:

More intricate wrought iron:

And a beautifully stenciled ceiling medallion:

 A little sorbet to cleanse the palate:

Monuments on the nearby grounds:

Iowa’s memorial to the drooling buffalo that used to wander our land, moistening our soil.

Walking away: 

 Goodbye for now, noble capitol:

What the what?

Sculpture park selfies