The drive into town was stressful when Sis remembered that she'd forgotten Shirt at home, something we do regularly but it must have mattered more today. And she was hysterical. But eventually calmed down. Until Bud brought it up again. And he was obsessed with fire escapes--what were those ladders for? why did you need them? what happens if you can't get to the escape? And all I can picture are the Twin Towers. Soon, however, the still intriguing novelty of being in Manhattan took over and they were admiring the tall buildings and longing for a street-cart hot dog.
After my doctor's appointment, during which they played on their new Nintendo DSIs, bought specifically to distract them during the visit (that, and Mama wants them to be videogame literate, so it was on her list to do anyway), we went to the Met. Our main destination was the Kublai Khan exhibition, which didn't really interest them on the first viewing and disappointed me on this, my second (we'd seen it when we were early for my last doctor's appointment). The objects were rare and intriguing, though impenetrable, and the dense labels were not at all helpful explanations for laypeople (I'm more than a little familiar with Chinese art, Taoism, and Buddhism, and I found them impossible to comprehend. Shouldn't let curators write labels. Ever.). We did, however, really enjoy a small exhibition on Chinese birthday celebrations, including the imagery of the 7th-century (or was it 6th?) General Guo Ziyi's 80th birthday, dragon robes, and decorative arts with the symbol for longevity, cranes, and peaches. And they liked the Buddhas and Indian gods with several arms. Of course, we also visited Egypt, to see Sis's beloved "William" the blue hippo, and Arms and Armor (where she likes the Samurai helmet with the bunny). And, in American, the Versailles panorama and Frank Lloyd Wright room. But no Washington Crossing the Delaware yet. We saw Panini's Ancient Rome in the exhibition on Roman views and Bud immediately recognized that it was a painting of a museum (though an imaginary one with a hole in the roof). We spent some time in 19th-century European, particularly once Sis and Bud spotted the Van Goghs, recognizing the trees and the swirls from their study of MoMA's Starry Night. And they liked the dots of the Seurat (though not as much as the thick impasto of Van Gogh). Sis was also intrigued with Moreau's Oedipus and the Sphinx; Bud liked the story and asked me to retell it repeatedly, particularly the riddle part, which Sis actually guessed right off (though, I'm not sure at first that she knew why humans are the ones who walk on four legs in morning, two at midday, and three in the evening). Then, Sis wanted to see a Jackson Pollock and they both pondered--stared dumbfounded at--Autumn Rhythm. And in the room of Clyfford Stills (like the big red dog?), Sis said, "This is the room of paintings that don't look like something." Over and over, "why did they paint this, Mom?" We talked about how this is what artists wanted to paint after a long time of painting people and stories and landscapes. We talked about how the viewer helps decide what the paintings are about. We finally agreed that they were paintings about paint. Smarter than some of my Art Hist 101 kids, I say.
We did notice in the Temple of Dendur ("the building within a building") that the crocodile in the fountain was missing. For the rest of the visit and the drive home, we imagined where it could be, making up fantastical tales about him wandering the Met at night, befriending "William," and eventually escaping out a door left open during party clean-up (not that I'm saying that happens!). Then the crocodile wanders the city, meets dinosaurs and diorama animals out and about from AMNH, and can eventually be found all over the city and back at the Met, just in different rooms. But not in any of the ones we saw today.
So, head to the City and look for that crocodile . . . no telling where it will show up next!
It might even be worth sitting down for.
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