Keep It Dark

September 6, 2012 by 4 Comments

1. I launched a new blog for my day job yesterday, here. I exported some stuff from Indie Moines just to stock it up a bit for the indexing spider bots, but also added a few new pieces about our upcoming fall programming at Salisbury House. I’m especially pleased with this piece about our Shakespeare program, which allowed me to do some primary source research in our incredible library. I don’t exaggerate when I say that there are few (if any) venues on the North American continent that can lay as deep a claim to being a perfect Shakespeare venue as we can. Even if you don’t live in Des Moines, it’s worth following us on Facebook, as we’re posting articles from our collection daily during the work week, and they’re pretty damn cool, if I say so myself. We have our biggest fundraising events of the year this weekend, so we’re a bit heavily focused on those right now, but we’ll be back into the guts of the collection next week, and there’s amazing stuff to see there. Go hit that “like” button, yo!

2. I often like things that conventional wisdom says I should not, especially when it comes to my musical tastes. Case in point: everybody knows that Donald Fagen is the voice of Steely Dan, as all of their best-known and most-popular songs have featured his nasal, sardonic vocal stylings. But . . . back when Steely Dan first got started, they actually had another vocalist, named David Palmer, who took leads on a couple of songs from their 1972 debut album, Can’t Buy A Thrill, including deep cut radio favorite “Dirty Work.” Some people are aware of that fact, but not many. Even more obscurely, though, Steely Dan’s original drummer, a fellow named Jim Hodder, sang lead vocals on one song on Can’t Buy a Thrill called “Midnight Cruiser,” and also took the lead on the Dan’s long lost (or suppressed) debut single, “Dallas.” Few people have ever heard either of these songs . . . but I love them both, dearly. (“Dallas” was actually covered by Poco some years later, but nobody heard that version, either). Jim Hodder was the first of the original members of Steely Dan to get the boot from the band, and was also the first to die: he drowned in his swimming pool in 1990. Here are his two vocal spotlights, just because they deserve to be heard and remembered as important parts of the Steely Dan canon, even if you’re not supposed to think that:

“Midnight Cruiser”

“Dallas“

3. I’m really kind of appalled that the Democratic Party operatives gave Massachusetts Senate candidate Elizabeth Warren a featured position at their National Convention. Per bullet number three in this post, having once been given the chance to trade in on my own (real) Cherokee heritage for professional reasons, and having declined to do so, I am profoundly bothered by her having opportunistically claimed minority status for personal gain — as well as by her continued refusal to come clean and/or meet with representatives of the Cherokee nation to discuss her fraudulent assertions about her heritage. Boo! Boo! And, again, Boo!

4. I just learned last week that intense singer-guitarist-songwriter Zoogz Rift passed away in March 2011. I guess he was so obscure that he didn’t make the obituary pages of any of the newspapers, magazines or websites that I was actively reading at that point. When I discovered that he’d flown away from this mortal coil, I went online to see what his long-time collaborator Richie Hass (an amazing percussionist) was up to. Last I’d heard, Richie was playing with the amazing Saccharine Trust, one of the few early SST Records bands still functioning deep into the 21st Century. Sadly, I then learned that Richie Hass had died of cancer in 2008, even more obscure (apparently) than Zoogz Rift was, since it took me even longer to learn of his passing. Sigh. Rift and Hass were great players, though, and they created a very impressive body of work together, cut from a Frank Zappa/Captain Beefheart sort of mold, only much more offensive, much of the time. If you haven’t heard Zoogz Rift and Richie Hass (and I’m thinking that includes 99.44% of those of you who are reading this post), here are three of my favorite songs from them, with fair warning given right up front that they contain very strong language and are not recommended for the faint of heart or weak of constitution. The first song is from the album Water (1987), while the other two are from Island of Living Puke (1986). See? I told you so . . .

“I’ll Rip Your Brains Out”

“The Mo-Fo’s Are After Me“

“Shiver Me Timbers“

Filed under Art, Iowa, Music, Work Tagged with , , , , , , ,

A Message to Garcia (Up Close and Personal)

August 16, 2012 by 9 Comments

Elbert Hubbard’s A Message to Garcia (1901) is an incredibly meaningful document in the lives of generations of United States Naval Academy graduates (like me), as it has long been used as an early and important part of the Plebe Summer training curriculum. It’s fundamental message? When you are a given a job to do, you just go and you get the job done. End of story.

Seems pretty obvious on some plane, but the language of the piece — not to mention the crucible within which most Naval Academy alumni first encountered it — leaves it looming large in our collective subconsciousness. In fact, there are few insults that sting as much as having a fellow member of the august Naval Academy community look you in the eye and say “message to Garcia” when you’re whining about not being able to get something done. It’s a powerful piece that resonates.

A couple of days ago, I was going through the database of rare books and documents contained in the Salisbury House Library (see bullet number five on this page for more about that), working to pull some records for an Iowa history project we’re working on. There was a long section in the database citing “Hubbard, Elbert” as the author of a variety of periodicals, books, or the initiator of various pieces of correspondence, including a hand-made Christmas Card sent to Carl and Edith Weeks, who built Salisbury House.

It took a few seconds for the proper neurons to close, and for me to realize that this was actually the author of A Message to Garcia. So I scrolled back up into the database, and discovered that we have five rare copies of early versions of this formative masterwork here at Salisbury House, along with scores of other tomes by its author. Hubbard was an accomplished man, until tragically being killed (with his wife) in the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915. Carl Weeks admired him and his writing, and maintained correspondence with him for some period of time, and after his passing, continued what appeared to be an affectionate relationship with his son, Elbert Hubbard II, who provided Carl with some of his father’s original manuscripts.

Needless to say, it was a real treat for me to be able to grab a key out of my file cabinet, walk up a flight of stairs, and put my hands on some of these rare, early editions of A Message to Garcia, including a reproduction of the original hand-written manuscript provided to Carl Weeks by Elbert II. I reproduce some images below for those who have also been moved by the power of these words over the years. Enjoy!

Front cover of the 1901 edition; Fra Elbertus was a Hubbard pseudonym.

Front-page of the 1901 edition. Hubbard’s Roycrofters printed high-quality, limited edition books with exquisite designs and bindings.

First page of text of the 1901 edition. Much nicer looking than the smudged mimeograph version I first encountered in 1982!

A personalized manuscript portfolio provided to Carl Week by Elbert Hubbard II.

Cover page of the manuscript portfolio.

Certification of authenticity signed by Elbert Hubbard II.

First page of Hubbard’s hand-written manuscript of “A Message to Garcia.”

Last page of Hubbard’s hand-written manuscript.

Filed under Art, Books, Work, Writing Tagged with , , , , , ,

Dodo/Lurker

August 1, 2012 by 14 Comments

1. For as long as I’ve been blogging, I’ve titled omnibus posts — meaning those with short, multiple topics — after songs by specific artists. In the beginning, these posts all had titles from songs by The Who. Then I used Bee Gees song titles for several years, and I’ve been using Frank Zappa song titles since around 2010 or so. Tonight, I feel inspired to honor a new band. Props to the music geek who identifies the new omnibus post titling band first. I should note that I am making the switch after watching about five hours of documentary interview footage online about this band’s back catalog. Because that’s how I roll, yo.

2. Marcia and I went to Omaha last weekend. It was our first time in Nebraska’s largest city, and we went to see a classic car exhibition at a restored historic manor house there, as a prep and research tour to support the exhibition that my staff and volunteers will be offering at Salisbury House on September 9, 2012. We stayed right downtown, and really enjoyed the Old Market area, with loads of stores, restaurants and bars packed into about a sixteen square block area abutting the Missouri River. We had an absolutely divine dinner at V. Mertz in a subterranean passageway in the Old Market, with excellent, knowledgeable service, an outstanding wine list, and some truly innovative and perfectly prepared entrees and small plates, largely featuring fresh regional meats and produce. I had a rock shrimp appetizer over polenta with a buckwheat fritter and great, tasty fruit and sauce accompaniments, while Marcia opened with a heritage tomato salad that looked like a work of art. I don’t care for tomatoes, but Marcia reported that its taste lived up to its appearance. For our main courses, Marcia had a duck dish that was built around the best tasting, most tender duck breast I have ever eaten, and I had a salmon entree prepared over a creamed wild rice bed, livened up with apples, turnips and fennel. We capped the evening with a beautiful, leathery 30+ year old Pedro Ximenez sherry and a flourless chocolate cake served with almond ice cream. We even had a perfect table, tucked into a little niche in the corner of the restaurant, where we could unobtrusively people watch, without being overwhelmed by other peoples’ conversations or traffic in and around the restaurant. It didn’t quite crack my list of the five greatest dining experiences I’ve ever had (a blog post that’s been stewing for a long, long time, and is on the short list for pending features here), but it’s definitely a contender for the top ten list. Highly, highly recommended the next time you find yourself in Omaha. Or anywhere nearby even, since it’s worth a trip in and of itself.

3. On our way to Omaha, we stopped in Council Bluffs, Iowa, to play a round of golf at the Dodge Riverside Golf Club, immediately adjacent to a large Harrah’s Casino. The course was pretty busy, so we waited at the tee box at most holes behind a foursome who were good golfers, but of that obnoxious variety who spend way too much time thinking about club selection and walking back and forth from their carts and swinging a dozen practice swings before each meaningful stroke of the ball. When we rounded the ninth hole, we headed straight for the tenth without stopping, hoping that we might leap frog the guys who had to throw grass in the air before every stroke, since we are pretty much “ready golf” kinds of players who just want to keep moving. When we got to the tenth hole, however, things did not look good: there was another foursome there who were clearly inebriated, having a loud conversation with a ranger. We sat back from the tee box so as not to crowd them, but one of the players saw us and waved and invited us to play through. We gratefully accepted. In the tee box, the foursome introduced themselves to me by first names, mentioning that they were in Council Bluffs for work, and that they lived in Los Angeles. I politely inquired as to what brought them to Iowa, and they said that they were in town to play a concert at the casino the following night. They asked me where they could get a good steak in town, and I apologized for not knowing the area well enough to give them a tip. We chit-chatted a bit longer, and then my music geek curiosity got the best of me, and I asked, “So what’s the name of your band?” Their answer? Weezer. Oops. I think they were kind of disappointed that I had to ask but, hey, I was really too old for college rock when they were at their creative and commercial pinnacle, so they aren’t on my “recognize immediately” radar screen. We thanked the four of them for letting us play through, though, and then amusedly watched them fall farther and farther behind us throughout the back nine. I think they must have stopped golfing altogether at some point and just decided to hold court in a bunker around the 16th hole.

4. One of the more entertaining things about being a long-time blogger is when people who have been reading my words for years without ever commenting decide to de-cloak and reveal themselves to me. Since I know the total traffic levels that my sites generate, and I know how many of those folks actively comment, I can deduce that something like 90% of my readership falls into the category of “lurkers:” people who happily read from the sidelines, without ever actively participating in the conversation. I appreciate this, since there are lots of sites where I do the same thing. So in honor of this post’s title, I formally applaud the lurkers of Indie Moines, Indie Albany, and J. Eric Smith Dot Com . . . and if the spirit moves you to de-cloak via e-mail or comments, I’ll be delighted to have some idea of who you actually are. Holla!

5. My sister the artist was honored by one her region’s leading arts businesses as the Asheville Area’s Artist of the Month, which she has concluded entitles her to assume the title of “Miss August.” Huttah!

Filed under Communications, Family, Food, Iowa, Travel, Work Tagged with , , , , ,

Five Things That Make Me Happy

July 20, 2012 by 2 Comments

Let me note right up front that this is a shallow post . . . I’m talking about little things that make me happy, not profound ones. The big things don’t lend themselves to list-making of this online variety, because my family, and my home, and my work, and my friends please and delight me on such fundamental levels that they’re beyond reducing to a piffle and tripe blog post like this one. The fact that they make me happy goes without saying, so these five items are just the sorts of little details that make me smile amidst the rush and hustle of life. Simple pleasures. Easy thrills. Happy happy happy.

1. The “Metalocalypse” Theme Song: I love everything about this cartoon centered around a death metal band called Dethklok, who — despite its members’ idiocy and disregard for the consequences of their actions — become the world’s seventh largest economy, worthy of attention from a shadowy supernatural cabal called The Tribunal. But I particularly love the way that the series’ opening theme song boils everything stupid and happy-making about the death metal genre down into a perfectly nuanced 30-second nugget of brutal excellence. We tape “Metalocalypse” on our DVR, and for most shows, that would mean that we fast forward through the opening and closing credits. But I don’t allow that in this case, and make my family watch it in its entirety, every week, because it makes me smile with glee every time. Here ’tis, if you’ve not seen it:

2. Our Backyard Ecosystem: Marcia quickly created an amazingly beautiful series of gardens in our backyard in Des Moines, just as she had done in Albany. My role when it comes to these gardens is to provide brute labor when heavy things need to be moved, and to provide the required elements of chaos, either by sowing Johnny Jump-Up seeds that will propagate and blossom for years to come in places where they aren’t supposed to be, or by putting out feeders that bring critters to lively up the space. I have to refill my two bird feeders pretty much every day at this point, as we get an incredible assortment of avian visitors, and the seeds that they scatter also attracts fox squirrels, chipmunks and bunnies galore. We also have bats and cicadas aplenty, and I like seeing and listening to them, too. Sometimes when I look out at the backyard from our dining room, I can see literally dozens of mammal, bird and arthropod species going about their business, blissfully unaware of how much I am enjoying watching them do it.

Dining room at Alba, Des Moines. (Photo from their website).

3. Alba: This exceptional East Village venue is rapidly cementing its stature as my favorite restaurant in Des Moines, as we keep having outstanding dining experiences there. The menu is eclectic, with most of its dishes based on sautes involving fresh, rough cut vegetables and meats, served with beautifully balanced and tasty sauces. The service is knowledgeable and attentive without being obtrusive, the dining room is comfortable and spacious (it’s situated in a converted car showroom), the decor and location are appealing, and the wine list is strong, creating a complete dining environment that’s hard to match, in Des Moines or anywhere else I’ve been in recent years. We went there for dinner last night, and I had an incredible English Pea Soup followed by a prawn gnocchi dish to die for. Sublime, divine, and deliciously pleasurable.

4. The Lyrics of John Balance: It’s hard to explain why these make me happy, as you’d be hard pressed to find someone more different than me, on some plane, than John Balance, a proudly gay English musician with the group COIL whose chronic alcoholism led to his untimely death by misfortune in 2004. (His long-time musical and personal partner, Peter Christopherson, also flew from this world in 2010, which I wrote about, here). Balance’s subject matter was often dark, and reading many of his lyrics after his demise creates an uncanny sense that he knew it was coming, perhaps even down to the manner of his passing (e.g. “When I find you I will remind you: most accidents occur at home.”) But I still listen to his music on almost a daily basis, and I am regularly moved by the beauty of his words and the imagery that they evoke, regardless of their seemingly insurmountable surface darkness. As I type, I am listening to COIL’s “Are You Shivering?“, which contains the following lines: “In the oceans of the moon / swimming squidlike and squalid / This bright moon is a liquid / The dark earth is a solid / This is moon music in the light of the moon.” “Squidlike and squalid”?!? That’s lyrical magic, and it makes me happy to know that such creative beauty can emerge from such seemingly dark spaces.

5. The Library at Salisbury House: I said I wasn’t going to write about obvious things like my work, and this is equally obviously work related, since as Executive Director of the Salisbury House Foundation, I am responsible for the care and promotion of this incredible collection of books and documents. But the happiness this collection evokes in me is deeper than sheer professional responsibility would dictate, as I am legitimately moved — deeply — by the objects that are housed in my workplace.  I have spent a lot of my time at Salisbury House researching this under-utilized and under-promoted resource, and the more I study, the happier I get about the objects that have been placed under my supervision and care. I have held in my hands a leaf from an original Gutenberg Bible, and a letter signed in 1492 by King Ferdinard II of Aragon, and a hand-illuminated Book of Hours from the 14th Century, and galley proofs hand-edited by James Joyce, and a first edition Book of Mormon, and countless other epic historic and literary works, experiencing their corporeality and presence in ways that few people will ever have an opportunity to share. I spent most of this week working on a grant application to the National Endowment of Humanities to allow us to better catalog and share this awesome material, and among my many aspirations for Salisbury House, few would make me happier than reaching a point where our library receives the international acclaim from scholars and researchers that it deserves.

So those are some things that are making me happy these days. What sorts of things are rocking your worlds?

The library at Salisbury House. The shelves to the left of the fireplace contain some of the world’s most amazing D.H. Lawrence and James Joyce collections, which make me shiver every time I walk into the room. How could I not be happy to spend time here?

Filed under Books, Communications, Food, Iowa, Music, Nature, Television, Work Tagged with , , , , , , , , , ,

Automobiles, Architecture, Artistry and Awe

July 17, 2012 by Leave a comment

One of the biggest events we do each year here at my place of work is the Salisbury Concours d’Elegance, an exhibition of exquisite classic automobiles which will be held on Sunday, September 9, 2012. This event is a good fit for our organization on a variety of planes, first and foremost because we have three exceptional automobiles of our own in the House collection — two Packards (1929 and 1933) and a Cadillac (1932) — and it’s nice for them to have classy company and eager visitors on occasion.

But I think there’s also a deeper resonance between the aesthetics of classic car design and the artistic and architectural presence here at Salisbury House. To explore this theme further, I wrote a piece for the Concours d’Elegance Planning Committee’s newsletter about how we fit and work together to create something bigger than the sum of its parts. You can read it by clicking on the image of our ’33 Packard below, parked in front of our cottage. It includes some other awesome shots of art, architecture and automobiles, all taken where I go to work each day, at Salisbury House and Gardens.

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Five Statements, Five Questions

July 10, 2012 by 20 Comments

1. The man who killed my father died yesterday. How should this make me feel?

2. I found this old video online recently. Would you wear the shirt I am wearing in it if I gave it to you?

3. When asked to pick the most quintessentially American composition of the 20th Century, I tend to think of George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue,” Aaron Copland’s “Fanfare for the Common Man,”  or Raymond Scott’s “Powerhouse.” Which would you pick?

4. Gina’s comment here rang true with me, since I’ve been a dogmatic North Carolina corn partisan for over 40 years, until switching to Team Iowa this summer. Is your own local sweet corn the best?

5. I was introduced to the concept of completed staff work in 1987, and I have really liked it as a working philosophy, both when I’ve been a subordinate, and when I’ve been a boss. Does it make sense to you?

Filed under Family, Food, Iowa, Music, Work Tagged with , , , , , , ,

On the Relevance of Non-Profits

June 29, 2012 by Leave a comment

Relevance is a big issue in the non-profit sector, as most of us are highly dependent on contributions from our supporters, and people generally don’t write checks to organizations or causes that they deem irrelevant.

Communicating that relevance can be a challenge, though — especially for those of us who work in the arts and cultural wings of the non-profit sector.

Nobody will die if they don’t get to see a particular piece of art. The illiterate will not learn to read by visiting a botanical garden. Nobody will go hungry if they don’t get to see a particular symphonic performance. The homeless can spend an afternoon at a museum, but they will still be homeless at closing time. Nobody’s illnesses will be cured by a poetry reading.

So why do we matter? Why, in a world of finite resources and nearly infinite need, should people give to arts and cultural organizations?

At bottom line, the answer falls somewhere in the “man (and woman) cannot live by bread alone” spectrum of arguments. We can aspire to lives that are about something more than mere sustenance or survival. We can empower an educated, literate citizenry that will develop and implement policies to care for its more vulnerable members. We can teach our neighbors about history so that we avoid making the same mistakes again. We can inspire the creative urge in our young people by sharing the treasures of our culture with them. And we can foster tolerance by embracing the myriad cultures of the world around us, which may be most eloquently captured and communicated through art, music, design, literature, architecture, dance, and a panoply of other artistic expressions.

That being said, most nonprofits in the cultural sector could not roll out that list of general, aspirational objectives on their marquees and expect the contributions to come pouring in. Each and every one of us within the sector must make our own case for relevance, and then we must communicate that case to the particular subset of citizens who would be most moved by hearing it. And that’s surprisingly hard work, especially in a tight economy like the one the nonprofit  sector has been struggling through for most of the past decade.

As a non-profit CEO, one of the first things I always do when I come into a new work situation is to try to create a case for relevance, and do it in a way that can be readily, quickly communicated. While the classic model of the “ten second elevator speech” is important, I think that the case for relevance needs to go a bit deeper than a soundbite, and I have found that taking a “Top Ten Reasons to Support [Your Nonprofit Name Here]” approach is a good way to get a collection of building blocks that can be assembled in various configurations to resonate with various prospective supporters.

My favorite room at Salisbury House.

What does such a list look like? Here’s the case we developed for the Salisbury House Foundation, my current employer. The list was compiled after an all-staff meeting where I played the role of the grumpy donor, pressing staff to craft compelling narratives with unique, compelling hooks in them to engage me. They tell a deep story about relevance if you go through all ten items, but each item can also be deployed on its own as well, should I find myself in an elevator with a billionaire librarian . . . or historian . . . or gardener . . . or architect . . .

Personally, I was sold on the relevance of Salisbury House the moment I walked into our library, since that’s the element of the House that resonates most strongly for me on a personal basis, as a writer and reader and lover of books. I had a “wow” moment, and I wanted to become a part of promoting it, right away.

Professionally, I need to be able to make a case for relevance that speaks to all of our prospective donors, to create “wow” moments for them in a variety of ways and places, and to have those moments resonate strongly enough to make folks want to invest in our continued success here at Salisbury House.

I believe strongly in the relevance of Salisbury House & Gardens as a treasure trove of culture, a tremendous research and teaching tool, and a tourism destination that always leaves unsuspecting visitors awed at what we’ve got tucked away down here in the quiet South of Grand neighborhood.

We matter, and we make Des Moines a better city by being here.

Filed under Iowa, Nonprofits, Philosophy, Travel, Work Tagged with , , , , ,

Iowa Museum Week

June 7, 2012 by 1 Comment

Watching Governor Terry Branstad sign a proclamation declaring Iowa Museum Week.

I had the great privilege this morning of joining colleagues from the Iowa Museum Association in Governor Terry Branstad’s office, where he signed a  proclamation declaring June 11th to June 17th to be Iowa Museum Week.

I had the chance to visit many of Iowa’s 600+ museums during my 99-county tour last winter, and I applaud the governor for recognizing the cultural, historic and economic force that they provide around the State. I’m proud to have been given the opportunity to actually lead one of Iowa’s museums at Salisbury House & Gardens, and I marvel daily at the amazing stories and objects we have to share here.

For Iowa Museum Week, Salisbury House is going to offer a rare public viewing of some of the wonders from our library collection. As it happens, Iowa Museum Week has June 16th in its midst, and that’s the day that James Joyce fans the world around celebrate as Bloomsday — since Leopold Bloom’s wanderings about the City of Dublin on June 16, 1904 frame the narrative of Joyce’s epic novel, Ulysses.

The couple who built Salisbury House in the 1920s — Carl and Edith Weeks — were formidable arts and literary collectors of impeccable taste, and we’re blessed to have a world class assortment of James Joyce material here in the library they left behind. Next week, our visitors will have the chance to see:

  • Ulysses: Shakespeare & Co. edition, published in Paris, number 500 of 750 first edition copies, bound with elaborate morocco binding by Soysia Rovelli, in the original wraps, 1922.
  • Ulysses: Limited Editions Club edition, published in New York, one of 1,500 illustrated and signed by Henri Matisse; this is the only book illustrated by Matisse to be published in the United States, and one of the great collaborations of artist and author in the annals of 20th Century private press publication, 1935.
  • Collected Poems: Black Sun Press edition, published in New York, number 11 of 50 copies signed by James Joyce, 1936.
  • Storiella as She Is Syung: Corvinus Press edition, published in London, number 157 of 175 copies, a work-in-progress later integrated into Finnegans Wake, with illustration by Joyce’s daughter, Lucia, 1937.
  • Tales Told of Shem and Shawn. Black Sun Press edition, published in New York, number 7 of 560 copies, a work-in-progress later integrated into Finnegans Wake, in the original wraps, 1929.

As I’ve no doubt mentioned before, I adore the magic of James Joyce’s language, so this is a wonderful personal opportunity for me to dig deeper into my own understanding of his work. I am hopeful that I will be able to communicate my own enthusiasms, and those of other Joyce devotees and scholars, in such a way as to tell the great writer’s story more effectively, maybe inspiring those who don’t yet know him to embark on their own literary or historic journeys.

And that’s really what museums are all about, on some plane, right? I believe that, above all else, we must aspire to inspire. I know that there are thousands of passionate souls around the state of Iowa who believe in their museum’s missions, and work diligently around the year to tell their stories. I thank Governor Branstad for honoring them all this week, since I think they are a big part of what makes Iowa special.

Filed under Art, Books, Iowa, Work Tagged with , , , , , ,

Shall We Take Ourselves Seriously?

May 14, 2012 by 2 Comments

1. A month and a half into my great new gig at Salisbury House and Gardens, I have identified two favorite things among the many marvels of architecture, history, art, literature and culture around which I find myself working in a humble stewardship role. The first is the utterly mind-blowing library that the house’s builders, Carl and Edith Weeks, amassed during the 30 years when they made their home here. There are thousands of internationally-significant books and documents in the collection here, including (among many other wonders) the world’s largest known collection of signed, first-edition D.H. Lawrence books, one of the fewer than 60 extant pig-skin bound copies of William Morris’ monumental Kelmscott Chaucer, over 60 historic Bibles (including a leaf from the first pressing of the Gutenberg Bible), documents and books signed by Abraham Lincoln, Ernest Hemingway, Queen Elizabeth I and Charles Dickens, an epic, limited edition pressing of James Joyce’s Ulysses illustrated with engravings by Henri Matisse, and a galley proof of Joyce’s Tales Told of Shem and Shaun, with the author’s edits and notes penned within. As a lover (and sometime parodist) of Joyce’s exuberant, explosive language, working in the presence of those last two pieces moves me especially deeply. My other favorite thing at Salisbury House, so far, is the History Series that’s been running there for an even dozen years, supported all along by a pair of local couples (Harry Bookey and Pamela Bass-Bookey, and Fred and Charlotte Hubbell) with a deep commitment to sharing their own appreciation for the importance of historical study widely throughout the community in which they (and I) live and work. In the six weeks since I’ve been at Salisbury House, I have had the good fortune to see and meet a pair of remarkable writers and speakers: Philip Freeman and Jeremi Suri. Dr. Freeman spoke eloquently and entertainingly about his book, Alexander the Great, providing an informative capsule summary of Alexander’s life and career, while inviting the audience to ponder how our modern sense of the word “great” applied to the rash and sometimes ruthless conquerer of his own known world. Dr. Suri spoke about his recent book,  Liberty’s Surest Guardian, a riveting and thought-provoking look at United States policy-makers efforts to export their invention of representative government. With a pair of degrees in political science and public policy under my belt, I’ve spent a lot of time over the years listening to academics expounding on matters related to the functioning of our government at home and abroad, and I can state categorically that Dr. Suri’s presentation was among the finest and most thought-provoking I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience. Having written about William Howard Taft in my Fine Art of Presidential Failure  piece, I was especially delighted by Dr. Suri’s assertion that Taft was the most important political figure in early 20th Century American history, despite the fact that he is largely remembered today for his girth, not for his many monumental accomplishments. And as a long-term development professional, I deeply appreciate the opportunity to work with caring community members like the Bookeys and the Hubbells, whose generosity in supporting Salisbury House’s History Series has truly made a difference in the life of our community and my workplace. I can’t wait to see what next year’s History Series brings, since I know it will be fabulous. I hope I will see you there. Maybe we can go stand in the library in front of the cabinet housing the Joyce books and sigh with contentment when it’s all done. Swoon!

2. As delicious as the art and culture offered at Salisbury House are, I’d be selfish and dishonest if I chose to present my own workplace as the only venue in Des Moines for incredible, world-class artistic experiences, given how many others we’ve already had here. Recent cases in point: Marcia and I attended the season-closing evening of the Des Moines Symphony Saturday night, and experienced incredible performances of Arturo Marquez’ Danzon No. 2, Leonard Bernstein’s West Side Story: Symphonic Dances, and Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3, which is known as one of the most technically difficult piano pieces in the standard classical repertoire. The Marquez piece was new to me, and I had never seen the symphonic version of West Side Story, which incorporated familiar melodies and themes from the theatrical versions most people know, but mixed them heavily with darker, more dissonant and jazz-based elements than your average Broadway-caliber production would ever expose you to. I am familiar with “Rach Three,” but had a completely transcendent experience seeing this complex masterwork’s piano parts being delivered by Barry Douglas, the only non-Russian pianist other than Van Cliburn to ever win the Tchaikovsky Gold Medal. As verbose as I can be, words honestly fail me when I ponder how to describe his performance. It was sublime, to say the least, and when it was over, I whispered to Marcia “We will never see a finer piano performance, ever, no matter how long we live.” And I meant that, seriously. On the visual arts side, I had the chance to pop over to the Des Moines Art Center recently to stand in the presence of Jackson Pollock’s Mural, which is widely regarded as one of the most important paintings in the history of modern American art. The work is here on loan from the University of Iowa’s Museum of Art, and its energy is positively palpable, leaping off the canvas in ways that few other works in my experience have done. Having spent 18 years in New York, which often embraces cultural hyperbole as much as it embraces culture, it is a delight to be exposed to such seminal works in a community that presents and embraces them with matter-of-fact modesty, as though it’s just a normal part of the civic fabric to respectfully embrace artistic greatness, in whatever forms it presents itself. Well played, Des Moines. Well played, indeed.

3. Marcia and I also had the opportunity two Fridays ago to attend an Iowa Cubs baseball game, where we watched the Chicago Cubs’ AAA farm team win a 1-0 decision over the New Orleans Zephyrs, with the winning run scored on a walk-off wild pitch in the bottom of the ninth inning. We sat in the Homer Club, two rows behind home home plate, looking down the first base line. It was amazing to see the game from that perspective, as it looks dramatically different than it does from the bleacher seats where I’ve always experienced major and minor league ball. Here are a few snaps from our night out at Principal Park, a wonderful venue that sits in the elbow of the Des Moines and Raccoon Rivers, much like a Midwestern version of Pittsburgh’s Three Rivers Stadium.

The Iowa State Capitol over the left field wall at Principal Park.

Up close and personal with the on-deck circle.

A wild pitch on this at-bat ended the game, 1-0 for the I-Cubs, bottom of the ninth.

Filed under Art, Government, Iowa, Music, Sports, Work Tagged with , , , , , ,

A Token of My Extreme

May 3, 2012 by 7 Comments

There are 728 pins and nine pounds of plastic and cardboard hidden within this shirt.

1. I had to do a spot of clothes shopping recently to have some fresh duds for the new job. This is among my least favorite things in the world to do, since left to my own devices, and in a vacuum, I would spend all of my waking moments wearing loose fitting gym shorts and a t-shirt, ideally with a grocery store or progrock logo on it. I wouldn’t own a pair of socks, either, if I didn’t have play nice in proper society. Or shoes, when you get right down to it. My feet get on just fine without such extravagances. But, anyway, life is what it is, and expectations are what they are, so I dress the part in the corporate world, and I do it well, when I need to. I bought three new dress shirts at one store last week and upon getting them home, I went through the usual insane ritual of removing pins, bits of plastic, strings with labels attached to them, cardboard, more plastic, more pins, and some little sacks with extra buttons or collar stays in them. I have never been able to figure out why so much packaging is required for men’s dress shirts. I would be just as happy buying them hanging on hangars, where I could see the cuts of the collars and cuffs just as easily as I can when they are mounted with pins-plastic-cardboard, as though they were works of taxidermy determined to show you what shirts would look like if they were worn by two-dimensional, one-armed men. Shirt manufacturers, stop the madness!!!

Safe for the gym AND the hot tub!

2. I do most of my reading these days on a Kindle, wrapped in a zip-lock bag. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, I’m a Philistine destroying centuries of literary tradition by sacrificing the magic of the printed page for the cold heartlessness of a hunk of plastic and silicon chips, and that does bother me on some plane, though not as much as it used to bother me when I wrecked expensive hard-cover books by sweating on them at the gym or dropping them in the hot tub. But, at any rate, one of the interesting features about reading books on a Kindle is that you get a little bar on the bottom of the page that marks your progress toward the end of the book as a percentage. I read a lot of nonfiction, so it has been really interesting to me to note how often I find myself at 65% or so, thinking I’ve got another solid day or two of reading ahead of me, only to find myself crashing to the end of the meaningful text, with 35% of my purchased product consisting of end-notes, bibliographies, author acknowledgements, indices, appendices and/or glossaries that I’m not actually interested in reading. Now, on a Kindle, there’s no cost to the publisher or the reader to providing these wasted pages, but it makes me wonder why publishing houses feel the need to provide all of that useless paper (for most readers) at the back of their print editions, when they have to factor paper and binding costs into their economic model. Wouldn’t it make more sense to end the print editions where the main text ended, with a little tag saying “If you really care about notes and cites and appendices, please visit our website at obsessedbookgeek.com”? My hunch is that they don’t do this, and that the end-notes and cites and other junk at the back of books are actually expanding in volume, because of fears about claims of plagiarism against the authors and publishers. That level of stringent documented rigor once only appeared in graduate school thesis papers, but it now seems to be a requirement for popular nonfiction as well. I did a totally unscientific survey on this topic by pulling a bunch of older nonfiction books off my personal library shelves, and I will note that many of the classics of the genre have virtually no post-text addenda in their printed editions. Why is this? I would welcome others’ thoughts on this trend, since I just find myself saying: Book publishers, stop the madness!!!

Filed under Books, Work Tagged with , , , , , ,

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