February 1st, 2011

hiroshige: foxfires on musashino

(no subject)

The first time I saw the terracotta warriors, in mid-December, the exhibit was full of school groups, teens and preteens in long trailing lines and clumped yattering knots. Negotiable enough for someone who regularly passed through Shinjuku Station in the morning rush, so I saw the exhibit at my leisure. The second time, after Christmas, the whole museum was packed with families pushing small children in the miniature tanks that (cough) a certain breed of parent thinks de rigueur for their darling. Seeing anything-- moving anywhere- was something of a challenge, so it was lucky I knew exactly what I wanted to see and snaked my way through the obstacle course to see it.

I can't say why I then remember the terracotta warriors as a jewel moment of happiness, but I do, especially on this snow-flurrying day so much like that first day. The dark, the spotlights, the silent figures raised above the eddying human flotsam at their feet: yes, blast it, it *was* impressive. The background exhibit on pre- and post- FirstEmp was extensive and informative and very satisfying for my purposes. Which still shouldn't account for the bodiless quiet happiness I associate with it. Maybe it's just the reappearance of the museum itself in my life, like an old friend from high school (note that my high school days were happier than many people's: so many friends, so many sympathetic minds and genuinely nice people)-- altered by the intervening decades and with a truly unfortunate taste in makeup or partners nowadays, but someone I loved long ago and retain affection for still.

(Which said, dear god the Lee-Chin Crystal's entrance hall really is a downer.)

Collapse )
foxfire foxes

First month thoughts

How long a month January always is. Five weekends does do it, but still. The year moves very slowly at its start, like a beast just up from hibernation, and I read immense amounts and it's still only the middle of the month. And then one gets into the way of it and weeks speed by and another year is gone again. Nothing stops this, I'm convinced, but moving to a new place entirely and learning the habit of being all over again in a new setting. Which is exhausting and heart-breaking, but certainly does the trick.
Collapse )