Little Boxes on the Hillside

I have eaten more than one living insect on purpose, and worn more than one pair of pleather pants. I played rhythm guitar in a band called “The Alarm Cock.” I have also purchased, and it pains me to write these words, no fewer than three Insane Clown Posse albums. Purchased, not pirated.

This week, Josiah goes to France and sees little boxes. Come on in!

China is Like a Hundred Years Old

Contained in the Weber galleries is a beautiful collection of belt buckles and daggers, tiny clay and bronze figurines, rhythmically engraved stone, and cast metal vessels. Wall text sheds some light on the mysteries for the patient. For the rest of us, the aesthetic impact of five thousand year-old axes is enough.

More on the inside!

We Will Destroy the Museums

It was Nietzsche gone wild, nationalistic and revolutionary, violently misogynistic. It was an art movement whose adherents rejected museums, a mode of thought that presaged Buck Rogers and the atomic bomb and the The Factory the Wars and the transistor radio and the plastic century. It was Futurism, and it’s a hundred years and two days old.

The Whig Dining Room

This is one of a very few spaces in the museum with columns, and the Met’s floor plan renders them as tiny dark blue dots. It’s a place where I can imagine mustachioed men of power complaining about the burden of being very, very rich, while servants roll their eyes and wonder just how difficult it would be to fatally poison a member of Parliament.
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Part two of our room-by-room review of the Met.

Eagle-Rape

In the first entry of our thousand-part series, Josiah feels the pull of lurid Macedonia, stone drapery is pulled back and a myth is busted.

With camera-phone pictures and a macro’d Google Map! More after the jump.