Worth Sore Feet: Meyerhoff Collection at National Gallery, East Building

Backing up to Sunday, November 8. I flew to DC mid-morning so that I could get my art fix before three days of meetings. Typically I buzz to the Hirschhorn but nothing there really caught my eye -- oh, that Louise Bourgeois was still up. That retrospective was an incredible inspiration especially her cell creations. I fell in love with the word creepy in a whole new way. Her work oozed with the grittiness that truly made the cells felt alive. Two pieces I made for an art expo at the World Bank were directly inspired by that afternoon that I shared with my friend and fellow artist, Leslie. Cell 1 (1991) is linked to a piece I call "Who's the Patient" which includes an old bed with a poem hand-wrtten of canvas and folded so that the rusty springs showed. The expo -- which is another story -- was for the end-of-project event of the Capacity Project. Louise, who is now in her 90's, carried me when my confidence was shakey and when I was ready to push the boundary a little further. Anyway, no Louise at the Hirschorn. So I set off for the National Gallery, East Building and was pleasantly surprised to find a Jasper Johns' exhibit and then the delicious Meyerhoff Collection, where I found many fine pieces by current fascination, Robert Rauschenberg. So much so that I left with two hefty books about him that I had to lug on very blistered feet back to the metro and to Arlington.

Lucky for me Tuesday's meeting let out at 3PM allowing me just enough time to get to the Phillips Collection to see Man Ray, African Art and the Modernist Lens. Despite a less than friendly staff, I did not mind the $12 for one hour's worth of viewing. I settled quickly into the flow of the exhibit that connected well in some respects with the Picasso exhibit at the Nasher. All well and good....and then the surprise. I had ten minutes to spare before closing so I wondered about on the second floor and came across one of the most remarkable art spaces -- the Rothko Room. Never had art had such an effect on me -- the room had been transformed into a pure visual experience that I felt and felt even with eyes closed. Fantastic.

It was this trip that I had to admit to myself that I am a hard core art nomad -- I walked through considerable discomfort -- due to the rather rash decision to wear new-ish green Frye boots -- because I had to see more. Yes, it's good to know what one truly loves.