1929 Educational Film Still at the Presbytere at Jackson Square

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The sun has come out, the sun has come out! I wheeled my bike out of the apartment this morning and was shocked by how different everything looked in sunlight, and by the immediate need to put on some sunglasses. I pedaled to the Lower Garden District for a lovely brunch with A. After a quick stop at her place to see her cats–we are both resolute cat ladys and proud of it–I rode back down to the Quarter. I’m a Friend of the Cabildo (pardon my brag), so I decided to stop in at the Presbytere to avail myself of my membership privileges. After waiting behind some Swedish tourists, I got my free member ticket and headed into the Katrina and Beyond exhibit. I have been to this one before, but it definitely deserves multiple viewings; it is a really tense experience. Today I watched the entire 1929 silent film about New Orleans pout out by the Eastman company. It is all about what a beautiful place New Orleans is, the romance of our sultry air and elaborate ironwork, our outdoor restaurants and eclectic architecture. It showed our prime spot as a port, with easy access to the Mississippi, over 40,000 miles of railroad tracks, and a direct route to markets in the U.S. and around the world. And there was, of course, video of Mardi Gras parades. The last words of this silent film were, “Romance, work and play combine to make the charm of New Orleans.” True that. The rest of the exhibit makes claims not unlike this old movie, and the new film installation at the end of the exhibit echoes many of these scenes (though the 1929 movie didn’t make me cry). We are not telling new stories, though the old one about how great MRGO is doesn’t quite resonate anymore. Yes, world, New Orleans has a right to exist. I checked out the photography exhibition upstairs, but the Mardi Gras stuff just seemed out of place with the mood I was left in, so I headed home to work out of the sun before a longer ride tonight. If only they’d figure out how to put some bike racks in Jackson Square. Seriously, folks, we can park bicycles without ruining the historical look of the place, right?

Men Moving a Freezer Into the Soda Shop at Magazine & Andrew Higgins

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I swear, you go out of town for a week, and they’ve added something else to the ever-expanding empire of the World War II museum downtown. After a day spent dodging rain, writing emails, and looking work in the face, I hopped on my bike and headed Uptown to meet A., C., and L. for dinner at the Ethipian place. On a similar ride last month I noticed the new “preservation pavillion” added to the complex–a big glass box of a building where some kind of ship or somesuch is being rehabbed. Today I noticed folks moving things into the Soda Shop, another nostalgic addition. I wonder if the audience for this museum will persist, if the nostalgia can be inherited on down the line, or if we’ll have a giant museum to remember our war in Iraq, a special building just for the Navy Seals who took down Osama bin Laden, a retro coffee shoppe serving Grande Light Mocha Frappucinnos. This museum is a huge tourist draw aside from just being an exercise in collective memory, which means there’s the money and the will to build, build, build. I wish we could extend that will to the neighborhoods of New Orleans, an exercise in collective memories of Fazendeville or the 7th Ward or West Baltimore. But those aren’t memories, they’re living communities, but I wish we could have the will to build there too. I continued my ride Uptown, then back downtown throught the Bywater, and home again. It’s good to be home.

View of the Inner Harbor From Federal Hill

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I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, or maybe thrown from my bike due to a pothole. Ugh. I am sore. But I want to explore Baltimore by bike, and I have no self-control, so after a leisurely brunch in Charles Village, I slowly pedaled my way down to the Inner Harbor where I decided to go ahead and join the Aquarium, envisioning a future where sometimes I ride my bike downtown and check out the jellyfish. I locked up to a rack and headed inside. The place was absolutely packed, and I was feeling a little scrambled-egg in the head, so I just tripped around, wondering why they have to make the jellyfish room feel like a gay dance club–is that what it takes to lure the Kids Today? After a silent promise to never return there on a Sunday afternoon, I pedaled over to the American Visionary Arts Museum to redeem my fast-expiring interwebz coupon. Other than the room of art inspired by bathroom humor, the place was amazing, especially the room filled with wind-up machines–come to town and we’ll go. I had a bowl of fruit and a mimosa in the restaurant before heading up Federal Hill for a view of the harbor. I snapped this picture before reading up; apparently, this is a massive earthwork built by Union soldiers after Benjamin Butler secured Baltimore for the North. In New Orleans, Benjamin Butler represents all the monarchical aspirations of the Yankees, but, as Ranger Davon Williams from Fort McHenry told me when I inquired about their baffling movie, every tells stories in their own way. I pedaled slowly uphill back to K. and N.’s, looking forward to putting some ice on some things and eating the blackberry cobbler they report is in the oven. They are the hosts with the most, for sure. I’m glad I just got back on the bike today.

Raccoon Art at the Antenna Gallery on Burgundy & Louisa

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I finished up a project I’ve been working on this afternoon, so I took the rest of the day off to just play, which meant first and foremost taking the bike out for a ride to see what might happen. That little activity never fails to satisfy, and today was no exception. I headed down to the Quarter with the idle plan of shopping for a cell phone I don’t need at a Radio Shack that shouldn’t exist. I locked to the rack at the mall and walked up Canal, but I stopped at the Insectarium. I’m afraid of bugs, so I figured it was a good idea to go inside, and I’m gainfully employed for the foreseeable future, so I’ve got the $15.95–I’m still getting used to that. After petting a hissing cockroach, washing my hands furiously, and having security called to rescue the butterfly that illegally hitched a ride on me as I left the butterfly room, it was time to get back on the bike and forget about bugs. I did my loop around the Bywater and then stopped in at the Antenna Gallery on Burgundy for an event with the Lens, our local indy investigative reporting blog. The gallery was also hosting a show, “My Mom Says My Work Has Really Improved,” which featured displays of work from artists when they were children alongside their current work. I snapped this photo of an artist’s long history of working with raccoon imagery. I love people and their minds and projects–hit up the show if you have the chance. Then there was a ride to a bar to watch basketball, another bar to listen to a brass band, Cafe du Monde for late night beignets, and now I will ride home in a breeze that just might cool things off, as long as I keep pedaling. Lucky, lucky me.

New Orleans Antebellum, Civil War, & Reconstruction History at the Cabildo in Jackson Square

I’m feeling quite out of sorts with all the moving and things this week, but today, after a brief stop at the old place to clean out a cabinet and collect my security deposit, I am done. For now. What I need is a little normalcy, so I took myself out on the bike to meet friends for some work at the coffee shoppe and then to the Cabildo for a little Louisiana history. Continue reading

Empty Auditorium at the New Orleans Museum of Art

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I woke up early to prep for class but ended up just fretting around needlessly. I headed to campus for a couple of good classes, the kind where you feel like you’re really just having a good conversation. Office hours and some needless fretting-turned organization later, I was back on the bike, pedaling to Mid-City for the opening night of the Patois Human Rights Film Festival at the New Orleans Museum of Art. I took this picture of the auditorium before crowds came in. It just looks so bare and empty, but it has certainly hosted a whole bunch of different kinds of events. Tonight’s movies were good, especially Hot Coffee, a movie about tort “reform” that was so good it made me cry. An hour before I was across the hall looking at Renaissance paintings and wonder why I’d never heard of Saint Cosmos before and why we can’t remember that the ones who provide free medical care for the poor are SAINTS. In between I went to the bathroom but had to use the other one, because that one was only for the people at that private party, the one with Arnie Fielkow and those women with that hair and those signature necklaces. Yeah, there was a lot going on at the museum. And then I got to ride my bicycle home on empty streets in cooler air. Nice.

Display of the Armada at the National World War Two Museum

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In all the hubbub of Mardi Gras, I almost forgot that I was on spring break. Huzzah! That means there is still more fun to be had, so after getting a little of this and a little of that done this morning, I hopped on the bike and headed toward the WWII museum to drop $23 on the exhibits and the Tom Hanks-narrated 4D (?) film, Beyond All Boundaries. I have ridden by this place literally hundreds of times, but B. is in town and wanted to go (he’s the kind of guy who always wants to go to whatever–I deeply appreciate that), so there we found ourselves, ready to learn how they wanted us to learn about the war. The displays themselves were an endless retelling of battle after battle with the persistent overtone of American Heroism, as is to be expected at a place like this. The film, dubbing itself an account of “the most important event of the 20th century,” tried, I think, to get us some of the embodied experience of the war: flashes of light signifying gunshots, a guard tower shining its spotlight on us, attempting to recall the guard tower of a concentration camp, a powerful flare that left a haze in the shape of a mushroom cloud in your eyes, and even fake snow–the Russians had it tough. I snapped this picture of a display of the armada, which I think was meant to overwhelm with its suggested size. The whole place is meant to overwhelm with America and pride and heroes, but there was a serious disconnect between that theme and the words of soldiers written out on displays, sounding in oral history booths, and narrating that truly odd film. Those words–about the brutality of war, the inhumanity of it, the way it required soldiers to break with their own souls in order to survive, the stories of the smell of death emanating up through the stratosphere and into the noses of pilots, the words of the man who refused to be called a hero for being one of the less than ten percent of his battalion to survive–that’s just chance, he said, those words undid the attempts of the museum to tell a story of American triumphalism. As one voiceover in the movie said, the quickest way to make a man a pacifist is to send him to war. The museum tries to recreate the war in some way for visitors, but it fails because it just isn’t an experience you can drop in and out of. And why would you want to? War is not a video game, and that’s how the museum seemed to represent it far too much. After that I needed a quiet ride in the cool evening air, and that’s what I got. I am immeasurably lucky to be here now as I am, and I know it.

Domino Sugar’s Chalmette Plant at N. Peters & West Moreau Street (in Arabi)

It was a ridiculously sunny day today, and I got to spend it on my bicycle. I rode down to meet K. for brunch and then headed toward the Quarter. As a Friend of the Cabildo, I get free admission to–you guessed it–the Cabildo, so I stopped in for a quick visit (and to use the bathroom) before heading the St. Claude bike lane into the Lower 9. Continue reading

Empty Seats at the Audubon Aquarium IMAX Theater

I had the day free and I happily spent it playing hooky. I rode my bike downtown to a doctor’s appointment and then to the gym where I lazily lifted some weights and thought about what to eat for lunch. I went for a burrito and a beer, it being Thursday and all, before taking the bike to the aquarium. Continue reading

Sun and Clouds at Bienville & S. Rampart

I spent today reading and writing at home until I heard that tell-tale crash in the other room, the one that says the cats are up to something. It turned out they were teaming up on a lizard, trying to play it to death. After watching the lizard play dead and then try to scramble away, only to be caught up in so many paws, I locked myself in my bedroom and wondered what to do. N. said to just get out of the house–great advice. Continue reading