Photo by mjanssen via Flickr

“I’ve always wanted to go to Lucama” may not have the same ring as “I’ve always wanted to see the Loch Ness Monster and Giotto’s frescoes in the Arena Chapel”. But all three are equally true for me. Last week one of these wishes came true when I hit the road with a few colleagues to visit Vollis Simpson at his workshop outside of Lucama. Since Mr. Simpson’s wind machines are known and enjoyed across the state and country, we went to get video and audio of him speaking about his work to be used on new cell phone tours which will debut in April 2010. His Wind Machine is a sort of solitary beacon on the hill in the Museum Park, but there is much more where that came from at his workshop.

Vollis met us at the door when we arrived and helped us move buckets of propellers to make way for our seats. He talked about how he began making wind machines during World War II, how busy he likes to stay today, his many visitors, and the proper care for a wind machine. Whirligigs like grease!

On the way to his workshop we walked to an adjacent field where several of Vollis’ wind machines are set near a small pond. His shop is filled with hundreds of small sculptures and the working parts for his larger creations. Now in his early nineties, Vollis doesn’t eat as much ice cream and chocolate as he used to, but we all got a kick out of the twirling mechanism he built out of ice scream scoops.

With over thirty minutes of tape, we have a lot to work with to find the best minute to use for the cell phone tour. Be sure to visit next spring to hear the final cut on the tour. In the meantime, come visit Vollis’ Wind Machine in the Museum Park.

Frank Philip Stella, Raqqa II, American, 1970, synthetic polymer and graphite on canvas,120 x 300 in., Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Hanes, © 2009 Frank Stella/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York

It’s difficult being popular. I know, I know. Those who aren’t quite as popular as me may not see this. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy being the big man on campus. I love having my picture everywhere—posters, brochures, post cards, the internet. I adore the groups of children who hover in front of me, whispering, chatting, even shouting out of turn in their school groups. I relish the audible gasp of first-time visitors as they round the corner and are taken aback by my size, my shape, my striking colors—the simple dominance of my presence. What I like most about being so remarkable is that people remember me. When they think of this place, when they recall what they have seen here, whether it was last year or 20 years ago, I come to mind. On return visits, they come to see me and there I am, just as they remember.

But all this fame and glory comes at a price. I am always on the job. From the day the doors opened here on Blue Ridge Road, I have never been anywhere other than hanging right on my wall. Can you believe that? There is simply no where for me to go for a respite—no storage space big enough, no corridor of size for me to squeeze down. I was once enclosed in a wall to cover me up for a special exhibition on flight (that was not fun) but other than that, I’ve never been off-view.

So I faithfully hang in my gallery, removed only for the occasional cleaning and inspection (which is a grand occasion in itself, but we’ll chat about that later on). So I have to admit I have been looking forward to my journey to the new gallery building for quite some time. I’ll fill you in on that as well as where I was before I came to the NCMA almost 30 years ago. While it is difficult being the largest painting in our collection, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

This post is part of the series Follow Our Journey. Follow Raqqa II and six other works of art on the Big Move to the Museum’s new building.

While the installations are well underway in the white galleries, another dimension has begun: installation of the first of 2,000+ square yards of curtains. They are specifically designed and fabricated to control light for the collection, while softening the contrast between interior and exterior thus helping the eye to adjust for art viewing. They are three varieties of white.

Silver

The new building canopy at the entrance is nearing completion. Semi-reflective glass is being installed into the polished silver framework, reflecting the building and landscape on either side. The most dazzling aspect of the canopy is the polished stainless steel ceiling, reflecting visitors moving in and out of the gallery building.

Green

While the new building is green in the “eco” sense of the word it is also being surrounded by a green landscape. The first trees have arrived on site! Finally. This is the icing on the cake. During the next few weeks, over 200 trees will be installed and will radically change the context of the building. By early December the site will be green with all the landscape elements complete.

Red

The pond project is entering its last phase after final design approval. This is not only a landscape project that will help connect the park and buildings, but a progressive demonstration of sustainable design. The pond and swale are integral parts of a global water management system for the entire site from the “rings” to the new building.  Some 20,000 plants will be installed, with a new path connecting the Museum trail to the Amphitheater. It will be North Carolina red clay for just a few more months.

Gray

Lots of noise in the Museum’s existing lobby is due to jackhammering as part of the existing floor is removed to make space for a white oak floor, just like in the new building. It’s a very strange sight to see the lobby completely gutted back to the exterior walls. By January the space will be complete but for now it is about as gray as gray can be with concrete and dust.

Golden Boy on his old plexiglass mount, with garish turquoise casework.

The Great Team:
1 Exhibit Designer
1 Mount Maker
1 Conservation Tech/Seamstress
1 Curator (who has actually been to Egypt)

Objective: A once in a lifetime chance to create a safe and stylish new home for a precious artifact that is beloved by the visitors of the North Carolina Museum of Art.

Solution: Create a mummy for the missing mummy.

That’s right. The solution is to re-create a body form that would replicate the missing mummy that these wonderful objects were originally attached to. It’s a fabulous idea, but believe me it’s no small task! This approach is new for us and the mounting system will aid in communicating how these objects were used in real life without additional explanation. You get it right away. This was a real person, a real body; we don’t have to tell you in a label because you can see it for yourself.

Please note that this will not look like a fake mummy—no wrapped bandages and no fake body parts—as the body form will serve as the primary support system or mount as it did in ancient Egypt and with a style befitting the Golden Boy himself.

As for that turquoise color scheme…well it’s been banished for eternity!

Golden Boy’s new home, in the new Egyptian Gallery, is almost as grand as the place he’s from. Stay tuned to see the transformation happen!

We can still remember, but just barely, the days when we were not united, when we were nothing but stones and sand, scattered about the lands. We were gathered up by many hands, treasured and cleaned, and finally brought together, a great mosaic, forming us into our collective. Here we talk and think together. Here we can watch the world around us move.

There were centuries when we sat on the ground, walked upon by thousands of men, women, and children. How we loved the children! They did not just walk on us, they skipped, they played, enjoying what we gave them. In those days we had the sun, we had the dry North African land.

Mosaic, 2nd Century, Roman, Marble and glass, 8ft 2in x 8ft 2in, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Hanes, 1979 (79.6.9)

Then we were moved, to a dark place where we didn’t see the sun. We were alone. We were untouched and we grew apart. Then, finally, the children came back. Soon we could hear their questions, see their faces, feel their smiles. We lay in a place of honor, among the myriad other stone creations.

And now we come to another move. Now we shall be split apart, but only for a moment, and then a new world. There we shall see light again. Truly beautiful light! We will once more be able to view the stars at night, and once more see our old friends. Our new home, with its sturdy white walls and smooth wood floors. And children.

This post is part of the series Follow Our Journey. Follow The Mosaic and six other works of art on the Big Move to the Museum’s new building.

Mummy from the Musée du Louvre, Paris

Coffin and mummy with cartonnage covering of a man called Sa-Hor, son of Neb-Udjat. Ptolemaic Period. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

Mummy with cartonnage trappings. Late Ptolemaic Period.Michael C. Carlos Museum, Atlanta.

Do you see what I see in these pictures? Do you recognise the shape that supports the various mummy coverings? Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Yes, I’m thinking about a mummy! The mummy coverings at the Louvre, the Kunsthistorisches Museum, and the Carlos Museum are all supported by a mummified body, the mummy to which the cartonnage plaques were afixed back in ancient time. I suggest we get a mummy for Golden Boy! Not a real mummy, of course, but a mummy-shaped mount that we could create here at the museum.

A mummy-shaped mount would offer excellent support to all the individual cartonnage pieces, including the helmet-mask, since it would be custom-made to fit each piece. Plus, the mummy shape will give Golden Boy much needed context, because the mount will give visitors an idea of how the gilded cartonnage pieces where used in ancient times.

What will Design and Conservation think of this crazy mummy-mount idea? Well, I guess you’ll find out with the next post… Stay tuned for the next episode in the Adventures of Golden Boy!

Outside incredible progress has happened in the last month, including installation of two new outdoor works of art (sculptures by Ursula von Rydingsvard and Roxy Paine). And in the coming weeks, the landscape will be transformed.

On a personal note, on October 1, I completed my fifteenth year as director. It has been a great privilege to lead the North Carolina Museum of Art through its growth in these dynamic years. None of our achievements would have been possible, however, without the support of the community, our members, and our volunteers. Likewise, the staff is doing a brilliant job organizing the arduous and time-consuming move which is being executed with great professionalism. I am proud of their creativity and commitment.

As we move forward, stay tuned for the most exciting things yet to come.

Jan Lievens, The Feast of Esther, circa 1625–26, oil on canvas, 53 x 65 in., Purchased with funds from the State of North Carolina

Has there been a time in your life when you were so excited to go on vacation and then after a while were just ready to get back home? Well, that’s exactly how I was feeling. In October 2008, I embarked on a new and exciting journey—but now I am certainly ready to go home. Don’t get me wrong—I was thrilled to return to the homeland, visit new places, and see lots of interesting people, but North Carolina is where I belong.

Let me back up a bit and start at the beginning. I was hanging peacefully in my usual spot when my day was totally thrown into chaos. I was told that I was leaving for a trip, and for almost a year I have been traveling with an exhibition—Jan Lievens: A Dutch Master Rediscovered. My first stop was the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC. Then I made my way a bit west to the Milwaukee Art Museum. The last leg of my journey took me across the ocean to the Rembrandt House in Amsterdam. So many visitors looking at me and me looking out at new and different faces and spaces was a thrill. Now that the trip has come to an end, one of my caretakers from home has come to pick me up. She’ll travel with me the whole way and ensure my safe arrival in Raleigh.

Stay tuned…I’ll let you know how the journey home went.

This post is part of the series Follow Our Journey. Follow The Feast of Esther and six other works of art on the Big Move to the Museum’s new building.

There are works of art that have been in our collection from the very beginning and recent acquisitions that had only been on view a short time. There are paintings that have never been off-view. There are sculptures affixed to the floor and the ceiling. There are works so light a small child could carry them in one hand and works so heavy they must be disassembled to be moved. Pieces that are thousands of years old and ones marked ‘2008’ add to the remarkable diversity that fills the galleries.

But this new quiet makes us ask “If these walls could talk what would they tell us?” Each work of art has its own story. And in the coming months a new series here on the blog will give an imaginative look at what the art might say if given the chance. Follow Our Journey will trace the steps of seven works of art in our collection as they leave their old home behind and embark on the journey to a new home, a new interpretation, and a new and growing generation of visitors.

Written in the voice of each work of art, these stories will share the history, describe the journey, and reflect on the future of the art and its place here at the Museum. Stay tuned for the first post as Jan Lievens’ The Feast of Esther makes its way across the pond to return home.

These past two weeks we have literally begun the move. The day after the doors closed to the public, we, in the Design Department, took over the Egyptian Gallery to prepare the brand new casework for the trip to the new building as the Registration Department did the same with much of the artwork.

About a year and a half ago we started building cases and bases. These past two weeks they were wrapped, padded and moved. Now they are in their new home awaiting final installation.

This process would not be going so well without a great group of volunteers from the community who are doing a tremendous job for us all. Their excitement is infectious and their energy seems limitless.

To see the new cases in the new building is a great feeling. Everyday it looks more and more like a museum. These mini-mile-markers on the road to completion are telling signs that this place really is a Museum on the Move.