Catalog of Awe

We’ve all felt it at one time—swelling emotion in a powerful play, swooning aesthetic delight in front of great art, awe for the majesty of the natural world seen through a microscope. In my role as director of education and interpretation at the Asian...

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Curious at Q?rius Gallery at the National Museum of Natural History

Thanks to my long time mentor Brian Hogarth for planting the seed that I needed to visit Q?rius at the National Museum of Natural History on the Nation’s Capitol Mall. My heart wanted to be in the relative quiet and cool of the art museums nearby, but I braved the crowds and heightened security check at the door to get inside Q?rius. 

What they did right by me: I got to “touch” actual specimens of creatures I’ve never heard of and will likely never see in the wild. I was moved to tears by this experience. Why? I’ll admit the gorgeous little white long tailed weasel was what drew me in the most. But why get weepy? I was overwhelmed by the enormity of the mission implied in this little corner of the museum. A place intended to inspire kids for whom the space was clearly designed, and their adults, to discover for themselves the majesty, plurality, and wonder of creatures in the natural world. So many of us see less and less of nature with each passing year. We feel helpless against the inevitability of the ongoing destruction of our planet by humans. This gallery made me feel connected, reminded me of how relational nature is.

Several kiosks in this gallery presented the visual evidence for microscopic concepts like DNA or cell structure that you could examine and learn about with videos of scientists talking about. In the specimens corner, helpful volunteers explained what you could touch and what they had to help you out with. Each specimen had a label and QR code you could scan at the computer to learn more from the database. In this database was information about the collector, adding the Indian Jones effect. I marveled at the idea that a person like myself climbed mountains to collect this creature. The morality of taking this life for science flittered on the edges of my mind. But I was captivated by the bats, birds, and small rodents I was able to view up close. Maybe some of the creatures were already dead when collected, but I know some were killed by human hands to be here. I had no question of the impact this experience was having on the people around me. To have a gallery bring up so many big ideas made it a winner.

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Experiencing Awe

We’ve all felt it at one time—swelling emotion in a powerful play, swooning aesthetic delight in front of great art, awe for the majesty of the natural world seen through a microscope. In my role as director of education and interpretation at the Asian Art Museum I am chasing the gold standard of museum interpretation so that I may steal and propagate good ideas so that others may experience awe in museums. Lofty goal right? I will use this platform to share these moments that swelled for me. I’m interested in hearing from others about their heart-stoppers, to see if there is a “there there,” something we can learn from as a field devoted to creating memorable experiences. In these short and probably sporadic posts, I will highlight what worked for me. The opinions here are my own and are subject to my own personal lens of experience, prior knowledge, and taste.

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I was really puzzled by this ceramic mantle in a London pub. Is this a thing to show three portraits with one being the back of a head?

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The office to administer tattoos.

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Station A: Pictures of emptiness

Station A is a massive, brutally beautiful (to my eye at least) abandoned building in the Potrero Point Power Station. I stumbled on this place a week ago and luckily had my camera with me.

As I was peering through the fence, wondering if I could get in, I saw movement and noticed some wild cats living inside. They look well established and regularly fed and watered by some people evidenced by lots of empty catfood cans.

The city facing side was painted brick red, but the bay facing side appears to have been unpainted. This gray side reminded me of some of the old Victorian buildings you see in the UK.

There's razor wire all over to keep out squatters and avoid law suits I guess.

But that didn't deter another photographer Mr. Read who has a blog that I wish was mine called Bay Area Society of Exploration from getting inside. Check out his post which also includes some historical information about and photos about this toxic site.

Someone used the razor wire to comic effect. Is this art?

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Happy Holidays. Here are 10 photos showing some highlights of my life this past year. Family and friends, my cat Jet, the ocean, and my work give meaning to the passing days. May 2011 be bright for you all.

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Rant for Humanity

Suggested soundtrack for this blog post: Scream's hardcore/reggae rant “American Justice”. Brace yourself for a good old, lung clearing rant. In a way, this story circles back to great aunt Thelma's exploits in the 1930s and 40s.

I just finished reading David Eggers’ Zeitoun (see this Guardian review of the book, which I highly recommend). It was an eye opener that called into question a stereotypical Hollywood disaster movie narrative of benign government forces bravely assisting the populace. The book is an account of a family living in New Orleans when Katrina struck, and the incredible mistreatment visited upon them by numerous authorities involved in the aftermath of the storm. It is just one family’s account, only one sliver of a multifaceted picture. There may be countless stories of officials who acted in heroic fashion, but that was not the case for Abdulrahman Zeitoun, a Syrian-born contractor, who decided to stay in New Orleans to protect his properties and help others who stayed behind. Zeitoun was arrested on suspicion of being a looter (not true) and an al Qaeda terrorist (also not true), locked up at the infamous “Camp Greyhound” and shipped to Hunt Correctional Center in Baton Rouge, where he was put in virtual solitary confinement. He was locked up for 23 days, all the while denied a single phone call, legal representation, and medical treatment, and also subject to humiliating strip searches, threatened with pepper spray, and beatings. His wife and family were frantic with worry not knowing what had happened to him for nearly two weeks, fearing the unthinkable.

          [A happier, more innocent Camp Greyhound]

I have three take-aways from the book:

Beware of people in uniform In the event of a catastrophic emergency do not have blind faith in the authorities. Give them a wide berth and get out of the affected area as soon as you can. Panicked police and national guardsmen and women are not going to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. In a paranoid state, everyone looks suspicious.

Expect better Contrary to the first take-away, we must expect better of these same authorities. Now is the time to prepare for a different approach to emergency management. We must hold FEMA, the National Guard, city and county police, prison officials, the courts and ourselves to higher standards. Now is the time to pave the way forward for a more enlightened and humane approach to disaster management.

It’s not so complicated to right a wrong
 The most chilling part of the story is the fact that so many people Zeitoun encountered turned a blind eye. All suspected the worst. No one listened. As Eggers writes about the prison missionary, who only fearfully accepted Zeitoun’s request to phone his wife:

“But did he risk so much? Not really. Usually you needn’t risk so much to right a wrong. It’s not so complicated. It’s the opposite of complicated. To dial a number given to you by a man in a cage, to tell the voice on the other end, “I saw him.” Is that complicated? Is that a great act of heroism in the United States of America? It should not be so.”

Unfortunately, Zeitoun’s story is nothing new. Linking back to my great aunt Thelma’s story, is the recurring problem of the fear of “the other.” In Thelma’s case, she suffered family ostracism and official scrutiny, her US nationality called into question due to her marriage to a Japanese man in 1931 and her move to Japan in August 1941. The fear of Japanese Americans during WWII led to their being interned in a panicky time. This imprisonment proved also to be unjustified, even if we can understand the fear behind it. Zeitoun and countless other innocents were rounded up in the aftermath of Katrina with no due process, and no recourse for the injustices they suffered. Many of them lost jobs, their life savings, self-esteem, or worse through the ordeal. All I want for Christmas is for this to be different next time.

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Thelma in Chicago and husband number 2

According to Thelma's passport application dated 1941, she was divorced from her first husband in 1930. She had moved to Chicago, where she met her second husband, known to my family only as Kane. Her marriage to Kane was a family secret that I found out about in 1990, as I was preparing for a year of study abroad in Japan. Kane was Japanese and Thelma's marriage to him was a taboo subject.

It took me years to discover his full name, which is Shigeo Kanematsu. According to her passport application, Thelma and Kane married on January 22, 1931, although I have yet to locate their marriage license.

When Thelma's younger brother "Sonny" died on May 13, 1936, she is listed in his obituary as Mrs. Thelma Kane of Maywood, IL. She had a Social Security number listed under the name "Thelma Elizabeth Kane."

I have a theory that she used the Anglicized name Kane, instead of Kanematsu because of the racism that a mixed couple would have faced in 1930s America. Why she used the middle name Elizabeth instead of her real middle name Eliza is a mystery. Could it have been a mistake? Her personal preference? Or was it a pseudonym concealing her true identity for some reason?

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Thelma's beginnings in a sod house in Kansas

As you read my great aunt Thelma's story, might I suggest the following soundtrack: Japanese Sandman by Artie Shaw.

Thelma Clearwaters - Part I

A sod house in Kansas was Thelma Clearwaters' birthplace in August 1903. As a little girl, she had no idea that one day she would travel halfway across the world and barely escape with her life.

Thelma's mother died when she was still young. Her older sister Dot took care of her three sisters and two brothers. At age 100, Dot told me she had had an abortion (I guessed sometime when they were still illegal in this country) to avoid having children of her own. I've already raised my kids, she said.

Thelma must have been the wild one. At age 20 she married, but my grandfather had nothing good to say about husband number one, a C. Oscar Ritchey. That union was quickly annulled, and there were vague allusions to Ritchey having being a "bad sort." Thelma next went to live in Chicago, where her father was. In the next post, we meet one of the most important, and mysterious figures in Thelma's story.

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Transference

I haven't done anything with my website www.clearwatersphoto.com for a long time. I feel it's time to migrate the content I want to keep to a blog. Once I have it all here in my tumblr site, I will let the website go.

So, starting with Aunt Thelma's amazing tale of love, betrayal, and the bomb, here goes....

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From dentist's office