365 Days at the Met

 August 23, 2021 This was undoubtedly my shortest visit to the Met since I began this project - half an hour or so - and maybe my shortest visit ever, since I was mindful of the need to be in Brooklyn Heights by 12:45. I cursed beneath my breath the crosstown bus driver, who had to make a detour because the usual street was closed for repairs - not his fault - but who then, in addition, stopped well before necessary at every light while my precious minutes dwindled away. I thought briefly of getting off the bus before it crossed the park and walking home in the rain. But as soon as I arrived, I was glad I persevered, especially when, walking through the classical galleries, I saw an interesting new acquisition, an elaborately carved marble wellhead from 2nd-century Ostia. It made me realize yet again what a dynamic place this museum is. Gallery 726, the Jenrette Gallery, was perfect for a brief visit, since the room, a square about 25' X 25',  contains relatively few objects. T

 August 19, 2021 Gallery 725, the Benkard Room, is an homage to Bertha King Benkard, an early 20th century collector of American furniture whose collection was donated to the Met;  some of her acquisitions are featured in this room. Among the room's contents of which I take special note:  a very fancy pianoforte, which appears to have an eight-octave range; a dropleaf "Pembroke table" (named, it is thought, for the ninth Earl of Pembroke, an 18th century connoisseur - the same Pembroke for whom the college was named, I wonder?); an elaborate ivory chess set carved in India around 1800; and two candlesticks that used to belong to Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon's brother, who, as I learn, was once King of Naples and then King of Spain, but who fled to New Jersey, of all places, upon his brother's downfall. (Apparently, he had a very fine estate there.) Most of the furniture was made in New York City, and the pieces have no relation to the Petersburg, Virginia house from

 August 16, 2021 Gallery 724, the "Baltimore Room," is another period room.  All signage has been removed (a Covid precaution?),  but through a QR code I'm able to access the Met's website, which discusses period rooms in general as well as the details of particular rooms.  I learn that the Baltimore Room, which measures perhaps 20 feet by 20 feet,  does, indeed, come from a house in Baltimore (presumably torn down?). But its furnishings represent curatorial choices, based on extensive research, about the kinds of furniture, fixtures, and decorative items that might have appeared in a home of the time and place. (In fact, this room, set up as a dining room, was a parlor in its original setting,)  It's an impressive assemblage of objects that include English glassware, French porcelain (but made for the American market, with patriotic motifs), an enormous sideboard, and two matching mirrors topped with eagles. I learn that Baltimore was known as a center of furnitu

 August 12, 2021   Barbara Gewirtz told me that when she was a kid, her favorite galleries in the Met were the period rooms. Certainly, the 18th century French rooms are among my least favorite spaces, but I thought I might have a different reaction to the American period rooms, which I assume will be less grandiose and ornate. Unfortunately, I suspect it will be quite a while before I can test that reaction and that assumption, since it turns out that most of the American period rooms are closed, whether because of Covid or because they are undergoing renovation (or a combination) I'm not sure.  I spent quite a while looking for the next open gallery in the numerical sequence and finally hit on gallery 723, a space behind the facade of the Second Bank of the United States. A placard in the gallery, bearing the title "Welcome to the American Wing," really should be placed at every entrance into the wing.  It explains that the wing was established in 1924 and initially foc

 August 9, 2021 Today is without a doubt my most astounding day at the Met so far.  I knew that gallery 707 is on a mezzanine  floor directly above the American Wing cafe, and the map showed one large gallery between the elevator and my destination.   But what I didn't know is that that gallery, designated as "Visible Storage," contains display case after display case containing tables chairs, chests, silver, pewter, china - an unimaginably rich collection.  I kept saying, "Oh my God, oh my God" to myself as I passed one case after another. It is all unlabeled, unfortunately, but I think the Met's website contains information about at least some of the items. Also, I'll have seen most, if not all, of the galleries in the American Wing by the time I return to this space, so I should have at least some familiarity with some of the objects on view. I had never dreamt that the Met is such an immense repository of Americana.  I am in awe. Gallery 707 houses t

 August 7, 2021 Gallery 706 contains many display cases of 19th and early 20th century ceramics, silver, and cut and mold-blown glass, along with two cases of brooches, earrings, and other items of jewelry. I can't say I like most of the works, some of which seem overly ornate and grandiose. Three, though, capture my attention because they are so weird. The first is a snake jug, perhaps 14 inches high and 9 inches across, made in the Anna Pottery in Anna, Illinois around 1877.  I learn that Anna is located  in southern Illinois, very close to the Missouri and Kentucky borders. (But was I even aware that Illinois borders on Kentucky? I'm not sure!)  The placard describes the jug as made of salt-glazed stoneware with cobalt decoration. But what strange, unsettling decoration it is: snakes (rattlers, by the look of them) coiled around the body of the jug and forming its handle. The body of one of the snakes encircles a human head; another seems to be in the process of devouring a