A little more on our previous conversation about the Sower—yes, I took the photograph. But how did I get a picture of something locked in a crate and not scheduled to be unveiled until midsummer? It just so happens that I found the place that was restoring it—The Conservation of Sculpture and Objects Studio—was having an open house one day. The Angel, X, and I showed up to view the sculpture before its official installation.
Winding our way through the mostly-Polish-speaking crowd, we found all our man S freshly spiffed up from his hot wax treatment. Photography didn’t seem to be prohibited, so I popped off a few shots. I was also able to speak to conservationist Andre Dajnowski, and some members of his staff. I was told that quite a bit of restoration projects the studio gets are from the city of Chicago. Someone “finds” a statue laying in a forgotten park or some lost lot somewhere. Evidently, there isn’t a list of public statues that has been kept by the city. One wonders if there isn’t a list of lost statues elsewhere, in the place where unwritten novels are kept, or photographs of a beautiful girl on the day the camera neglected to be loaded with film. If there is, now that he’s arrived, the Sower must be boldly struck from that list.
Other works were present in the studio as well. X uncovered some sketches of elaborate tangled curlycues decorating vaulted archways. Having not eaten all day, I was famished. Luckily, buffet tables were filled with many good things. I had scarfed down half of a plateful of a peeled white grape salad before I realized they weren’t white grapes at all. X postulated that they might be some form of outsized tapioca. The Angel and I took turns eating things from the buffet table until I ate the pansy garnish. We met an artist while we were there, one Dolan Geiman, who seems to have unlimited artistic stamina and appears to be having a show next weekend. Anyone interested in coming?
And as a sidenote, the Gracious Angel was quite taken with the seven-foot-tall man of black bronze. The Sower seemed to hold court as a powerful personification of fecundity and fertility. Swooningly through her schoolgirlish giggles, she commented on the statue’s uncircumsized penis at least twice.
Interestingly enough, Angel and X are now expecting their first child.
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Family Fun: How many veiled references to fertility and ubertic euphemisms can you find in the story above?
Sower
unveiled
midsummer
open house
installation
Polish
spiffed up
hot wax
popped off
a few shots
members
his staff
laying
forgotten park
lost lot
loaded
arrived
boldly struck
present
uncovered
tangled curlycues decorating vaulted archways
eaten
Luckily
buffet
filled
good things
scarfed
down
peeled
grapes
postulated
outsized
tapioca
took turns
I ate the pansy garnish
unlimited … stamina
having a show
Anyone interested in coming?
What you see here is a seven foot tall sculpture by Albin Polasek. It is called The Sower and it’s been stored in a crate for the last 89 years.
In 1916, in all its nude glory, the statue was was placed on the front steps of the Art Institute of Chicago—located on Michican Avenue (the Champs d’Elysees of the Windy City). There was an immediate uproar by those who were offended, and some citizens anguished over its effect on innocent girls (he is sowing seed, after all)!
Arriving on the scene was the champion of ignorance and prudery: Deputy Police Superintendant, Major Metellus Lucullus Cicero Funkhouser. He was in charge of the Chicago Board of Censors, and, dammit, when a seven foot black man arrives in town wearing no pants, something must be done! Funkhouser ordered the statue to either be removed, or to add trousers to the sculpture. The Art Institute declined to swath the figure in bronze britches, and so Polasek’s creation was packed in a crate where it was nearly forgotten.
It wasn’t until a year and a half ago when the curator of the Art Institute was lunching with the Chicago Botanic Garden’s curator, and offered the sculpture. The Gardens jumped at the chance, and come summertime, will be prominently displaying The Sower in the soon-to-be-completed Esplanade—just off the entrance. I’ll be sure to tell you when it’s on display.
In the meantime, start planting your own seeds now that the weather is warming up, and enjoy the greening spring weather!
Fortunately for Ignatius Ashbottom, the mistake was discovered quickly. Unfortunately for Ignatius Ashbottom, the lower part of his body had already entered the flames. According to the Church, half of Ignatius Ashbottom was ineligible to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.—from Book of Spirits (currently unpublished)
One of the projects I’ve added to my already long list is a book idea that I’ll be working on with John from Inkyboy.
While there are many marvelous artifacts on display within the Shop, there are some that are simply too dangerous to leave laying about. They’ve been sequestered in a special area of the attic. The common thread between each of these objects is that they’re haunted.
I’ve begun writing the histories of each of these special objects, and instead of the usual photography you are used to here in the Shop, I decided the tales would be better served through John’s illustration. Here is one of the sketches he’s drawn. I like it, and Ignatius concurs.
While I’m on the subject of dream-like films, here’s another film I can’t recommend enough. It’s called Russian Ark. Filmed on location at the Hermitage museum in St. Petersburg, the events are viewed through the eyes of an unseen Russian narrator. The action sashays across three hundred years of history, sometimes forward, sometimes back, and often dogged by the crass and unpredictable Marquis. One may glimpse Peter the Great trouncing one of his generals, the first performance at the new theatre for Catherine II, Anastasia dancing untroubled before sitting down to the last dinner to be had by the Romanovs at the Winter Palace, and the last grand ball before the start of WWI.
The most breathtaking thing about this film is not the superlative performances, the opulent costumes, the three seperate orchestral performances, nor the incomparable art collection and the Hermitage itself. The most breathtaking thing is that the movie is filmed all in one take. No edits, no cuts—just a ninety minute sweep through doors, and chambers, and history.
One may view the Russian Ark trailer here. I recommend Windows-Media gross (11 MB) for optimum viewing pleasure.
The painting of Peter the Great (above) was stolen from the Hermitage website. Don’t worry, I put it back.
I find the movies I enjoy most are films that most closely resemble dreams. The short list: The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, James and the Giant Peach, Fanny & Alexander, Moulin Rouge, Brazil, Delicatessen, City of Lost Children, etc. etc. Well, here’s another one for the list. Last month I watched the movie Tuvalu. I would have told you about it sooner, but I really didn’t feel like writing some damned clever review. And, quite frankly, I still don’t.
However, Kim Hollis wrote one here that will do very nicely.