And the award goes to...

Are you going to watch the Oscars tomorrow? I'm very excited because it was the The Beau's idea for us to watch together. He may prefer obscure British folk groups to Beyonce but sometimes our pop culture tastes converge.

So classy!

Of course I am rooting for Colin Firth to win best actor for The King's Speech. If his self-deprecating Britishness were not charming enough, in a recent interview he declared how his wife is "the most beautiful woman in the world," and how he plans on being married to her the rest of his life. You get a million bonus points, sir. 

I'm also smitten with fourteen year-old Hailee Steinfeld. She held her own opposite Jeff Bridges in True Grit, and by all accounts appears to be a mature, cheerful, grounded fourteen year old. Check out this slideshow of her red carpet looks - ahhhh she's so cute and smiley! Her sense of style makes her look young and fun, but not skanky - I would hold that up as a role model for a preteen sister/daughter if I had one.

I think what fascinates me with awards shows is the public suspense and joy of winning - like many Olympics medals ceremonies in quick succession. I love the looks of surprise and breathless glee on the winner's faces. It's fun to imagine what I would say in that situation.Would I be funny and memorable or just blurt out trite thanks to God and a list of producers? The closest I'll ever get is my big thesis presentation when I graduate in May. I'll be gleefully clutching an imaginary diploma while I rattle off how much the experience meant to me, and how much I owe to my classmates and teachers.

Happy Birthday to my pal George

Did you ever play the totally nerdy party game of "who is your favorite Founding Father"? Of course I have, many times. As a self-respecting WM alum I cannot say the pompous "Mr. Jefferson." While I respect the intellects of John Adams and James Madison, and Benjamin Franklin's' wit, there is only one dead white male who can claim my heart- George Washington. Maybe it's because of  that Barry Bostwick miniseries that aired when I was a child, or the awesomeness of Mount Vernon's back piazza overlooking the Potomac, or his action hero/political patron saint status. Or maybe it's because our birthdays are a few days apart. Either way, my first president crush has not subsided.

As an early present to myself, I picked up this set of coasters at the museum's President's Day sale. They are like the "greatest hits" of the museum's Washington portraits, and I'd had my eye on them for weeks.

Clockwise from upper right we have:

• George Washington at the Battle of Princeton-James Peale 1804 (Note the tragic battle death scenes happening in the background.)
• George Washington as Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army - Charles Peale Polk 1787-93 (There are about 70 copies of this "Princeton portrait" floating around various museum galleries)
• George Washington Reviewing the Western Army at Fort Cumberland, the 18th of October 1794 - Frederick Kemmelmeyer, 1794-1800 (Go suppress that Whiskey Rebellion, G-dubs!)
• Washington at Verplanck's Point - John Trumbull, 1790 (They say this was Martha's favorite portrait of her husband. This is also my favorite version of his horse.)

Material Culture Alert: Interior Decorating

So my Monday didn't start so well. I left my laptop's power cable at home and on my way in from the museum parking lot I slipped, fell, and skinned my knee. What am I, five years old?

Things got better, though, when I got to hear a guest speaker talk about  the late 1800's phenomenon of interior photography. It was all the rage to have a professional come in and document your house, and then have him make a nifty gift book with a photo tour of your abode. Pictures of college dorm rooms were also very popular. 

Swarthmore College

One man kept the shot of his senior year sitting room all his life - you could see it proudly displayed in photos of his adult bedroom, along with the name tag that hung over the dorm room door.

This was all very interesting and of course reminded how people still document how the live at college and elsewhere. In the interest of the historical record, here are shots I took of my room in the VSC house during my first week...

...and halfway through the year. Observe how personal objects have transformed a former convent "cell" into a twenty-something's crash pad.

 

 Yeah, that was a pretty messy day, but you can learn some interesting things about me. First, my sensitivity to light when sleeping, hence the ghetto blanket/curtain. The pictures on the wall are from Williamsburg and the National Gallery of Art. The tote bag on the bed was a thrift store find. The purple cup on the desk is evidence of my "cup hog" hoarding habit as I tried to stay hydrated. There's a book on the floor because would read in bed but have nowhere to set the book when I fell asleep (I still do this.)

You're welcome, historians of the 2100s. I photographed the whole house if you're looking for a master's thesis topic.

Seven Quick Takes Again

 I have to say, I was amazed to see how many visitors I got last time I linked up to this feature on Conversion Diary. Thanks for stopping by!

One

It was a glorious near-70 degrees yesterday, so I took a long walk. It's been winter so long I almost forgot how to dress myself for warm weather.

Two

I stopped at church on my walk and saw my pal the monsignor, who fell and tore a ligament two weeks ago. Armed with a cane and leg brace, he was testing to see if he could handle walking around the altar. It was pretty funny to see him in plaid pajama pants and a UD Blue Hens fleece.

Three

Holy cow Levar Burton is a guest star on Community this week! Between him and Theo Huxtable, they're bringing in almost all my childhood tv icons. Please let the MathNet cast be hoping to return to TV.

 Four

In other TV news, the Hoda Kotb/Kathie Lee hour of the Today Show has become my morning guilty pleasure. Today those girls taught me that Canadian bacon has less fat than turkey bacon.

Five

I hope your Valentine's Day was full of chocolate and nice words from the people you love. The Beau very sweetly made me GF pasta and we watched Dr. Zhivago. I'd never seen it and was not totally sold on the romance - just because he's a poet he can go cheat on his loyal pregnant wife? Not. Cool. Anyone want to convince me why it's a great love story?

Six

Margaret posted this video weeks ago, and I've been hooked on it ever since. It combines some of my favorite material culture things - architecture, glass, smashing ceramics. Also interpretive dance with sticks and chalk dust.


I heard a great interview with Adele on NPR. Did you know that she grew up listening to the Backstreet Boys and didn't discover Etta James until her teens? And that she's only 22? Gosh that makes me feel old. Especially since...

Seven

I am turning 26 this weekend! It really does feel weird to be closer to 30. My mom was this age when I was born - this means she's known me half her life! This also means my sophomore year of college was like 6 years ago. Funny, it still feels like I just left. When does adulthood actually start feeling real?

Almost real museum people

Yesterday  I did a guest post/ interview for the Museumist blog's "I'm a museum person" feature. Check out the rest of the entries; It's interesting to hear from people in all sorts of museums and graduate programs. It's also interesting that all of the participants are women. That's definitely a trend in museum studies today, but it wasn't always the case. In past generations, being a curator expert was a man's job; women were simply tour guide "hostesses." Sometimes I can spot remains of the old boy's club, but for the most part women are respected for their intelligence and scholarship.Now its the male museum students who are an endangered species, but that's another story.

In other news, today I took a big official step towards graduation- I turned in my "application for advanced degree" form. It felt really satisfying and exciting to deliver a list of all the classes I've taken, stamped with my professor's approving signatures.It's also a little scary, since it means I'm that much closer to the end - only a month and a half before my final thesis draft is due! I had a lot of conversations with The Beau and classmates today about how we're sick of the grad school grind. Real adult life is so close and tempting. We'll just have to keep marching on together to that promised land.

For this dance we’ll move with each other.
There ain’t no other step than one foot,
Right in front of the other.

There’s so many wars we fought,
There’s so many things we’re not,
But with what we have,
I promise you that,
We’re marching on...

The Bromantic Tale of Henry II and Thomas Becket

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Listen my children, and you shall hear the ballad of Becket, a bromance between Peter O'Toole and Richard Burton. O'Toole was king of the bros, spending his days partying, bagging peasant chicks, and bossing around bishops while his servants brought him snacks. His favorite wingman was Burton, who joined him on daily falcon workouts and even helped him with the essential bro tasks of bathing and grooming. They were total BFFS.

The only buzzkill was that the chicks in O'Toole's life who weren't whores were shrews. His mom and wife just sat around in doofy hats, making tapestries and nagging him when they should be greeting him with his slippers and a fresh cocktail. He coped by complaining about how unattractive and useless his wife was. They and their screenwriter seemed to have forgotten how Eleanor left the King of France for O'Toole, giving him sweet lovin', 8 kids, and a hunk of French territory. Or how his mom Matilda had fought tooth and nail to make him king. No matter, there is no room for female agency in this story. Katharine Hepburn will have to fix that another time.

When O'Toole made Burton the Archbishop of Canterbury, the lone-wolf wingman surprisingly took his new job totally seriously. He gave away his best Ed Hardy shirts to some homeless guys and started building a professional wardrobe of archbishop vestments. Sadly, they were not historically accurate, lacking embroidered panels of saints and madonnas. The cloth-of-gold stole with pearls was pretty good, though. You could tell he was serious because his intense Richard Burton gaze happened more often. Also, he really prayed; he didn't just wear flashy crucifixes around his neck.

Then the disrespect started. Anyone who watches Jersey Shore knows this is the greatest violation of the bro code. O'Toole disrespected the Church courts, Burton responded with an epic candle-snuffing excommunication ceremony inspired by re-runs of Survivor. O'Toole disrespected back by threatening to arrest Burton.

Things were getting ugly, so they went to the ultimate bro, the Pope. He talked-a-like-a-this and hung out in Italy with a crew of guidos. From the size of their cardinal robes you could tell they were juicing. Guido Pope got them to compromise, and so there was a poignant reunion horseback riding on the beach. O'Toole was all "I wish I knew how to quit you!" and Burton was all "I wish you would stop disrespecting the Church. Jesus is my bro now." When they got home, O'Toole had a meltdown of Real Housewives proportions, and everyone started to wonder exactly how he "loved" Richard Burton. You know what happened next - some other bros from O'Toole's posse went to the cathedral and slashed up Burton and his shiny vestments. O'Toole did penance, and Guido Pope made Richard Burton/Thomas Becket a saint, thus inspiring many tales of future pilgrimage roadtrips.

So there you have it. It didn't crackle like The Lion in Winter, nor did it inspire like A Man for All Seasons. I think I'll chalk it up the empty dress syndrome that plagues so many inaccurate historical movies.

Book Review - Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace With Marriage by Elizabeth Gilbert

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This book is a sequel of sorts to Eat, Pray, Love. Elizabeth Gilbert is on another odyssey, this time hanging around south Asia while waiting for US immigration to approve her marriage to a Brazilian man. She met Filipe in Bali at the end of her previous book. Both were divorced and reluctant to get hitched again, but restrictions on temporary visas made the decision for them.

If you think marriage is a profound sacrament, or even just the building block of a healthy society, you will find yourself disagreeing with Committed. To be fair, she told us upfront that she is a skeptic. She’s also quite honest about the independent individualism that modern Americans consider their birthright. How dare a government or church tell her what to do? Refreshingly, though, she admits that much of the world happily functions without this mindset, and that she's often grappled with feeling unfulfilled.

Gilbert read up on the history of marriage during her year of skepticism, but  I found myself yelling “Where are your footnotes, woman?” and grumbling about irresponsible use of anecdotes. Also "How could you not know that emotional intimacy with a person-not-your-spouse can lead to an affair???!" And "Women are the ones who have babies. Parenthood requires sacrifice. Get over it."  And finally "Just marry the guy already!"

But that’s really the appeal of Gilbert’s writing; reading her words is like hearing a friend tell you a story. You are privy to her personal life and feel like you can engage with it. I could even identify with some of her apprehensions about commitment and motherhood. Does raising children really require women to "scrape bare the walls of their own souls"? Can we change our minds all the time and still make a lifelong commitment to someone?

The stories about her relationship with Felipe were more encouraging. That’s when Committed is at its best, telling a story about two people in love trying to make a life together. Besides the whole immigration approval with nomadic lifestyle thing, they had to learn to balance different cultural backgrounds and traveling styles. Her field trip to Cambodia while he read mystery novels by a pool was a nice reminder that your relationship is not doomed if you have some different ideas of fun.

 

It was also interesting to see how Gilbert finds a solution for our modern, post-marriage society. She starts to view marriage as a form of social rebellion. Sure, governments and churches may regulate it, but that is their feeble attempt to control the coupling that would happen no matter what. Couples say vows and sign paperwork, but then, as Felipe put it “We go home and do whatever the hell we want.” Every home is its own little society, and no amount of laws can completely control what happens in those homes.Marriage (and children) implies that you value a particular relationship above the wider community.

In the end, though, Gilbert is willing to admit that her marriage is not an entirely private matter. She realizes how much her family wants to be able to witness her and Felipe’s exchange of vows. She jumps through all the US customs hoops. And when all is said and done, she finds that public commitment to the man she loves was nothing to fear. That alone could calm a few other skeptics.

Edit: Elizabeth Gilbert's personal website reveals that Committed was just released in paperback with the subtitle changed to "A love story" implying that she is still living peacefully ever after.

Modernist Monday - Libraries

All my inter-semester for-fun reading has been possible thanks to Delaware's New Castle County library system. The only drawback is their pesky 6 month probation period for new members. I can only check out 12 items at a time, with three audio-visual items at most. What, are they afraid I'm just there to pirate their DVDs? That I will return books scribbled with crayon? Happily, my probation ends next week. To celebrate, I'm posting pictures of the very cool looking library branches I like to visit.

Brandywine Hundred is my usual stop. I love how it combines glass and steel with the stonework traditional in this region.

On each pillar of the back loggia is a plaque explaining an article from the Bill of Rights. 

The Kirkwood Highway branch is farther away, so its my alternative destination if I'm going to campus and want a book Brandywine doesn't have. This is a more modernist building, and was just finished last year. Unlike Brandywine, it is only one story. The tall ceiling is deceptive.

Both branches have nice outdoor seating areas that seem to get a lot of use in warm weather.  You can see Kirkwood's surrounded by that little flagstone fence.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home and read some more books wrapped in those crinkly plastic covers. I love that sound.

7 Quick Takes

For the first time I'm linking up with the 7 Quick Takes feature on ConversionDiary. Thanks to Jen for hosting - I'm excited to join in the conversation with so many wonderful bloggers!

1. My spring semester classes finally start next week! University of Delaware has this weird winter session, and all the unstructured time is killing my motivation for productivity.
2. A conference at The Beau's university rejected my paper proposal - booo hoo. To console myself, I'm editing the proposal and submitting it to another graduate conference that is more material culture-minded. 
3. For my Super Bowl party on Sunday, I am going to attempt a GF version of my mom's poppyseed cake. We all loved it when we were little kids. Mom was always making it to give to other people, much to our dismay.
4.  The Beau is rooting for the Packers in said Super Bowl. As the child of two Chicagoans, I cannot but view this as a moral evil. Also, my entire VSC house rooted for the Steelers the last time they were in the championship. If that weren't enough, Steelers coach Mike Tomlin was my college graduation speaker. Done deal.
5. When I'm writing about vestment history I keep hearing the voice of Miss Prism in The Importance of Being Earnest: "Dr. Chasuble is waiting for me? In the vestry?"
6. I just finished reading The Hunger Games, which was a completely stunning book. Combining reality TV with gladiator games in a socialist state was a brilliant move. This is what teenage girls should be reading instead of Twilight, which is entertaining but fails to depict brave, real, self-giving love. I can't wait to read the next two books. 
7. The funny Monsignor at my parish with the radio announcer voice is starting to recognize me. Last weekend I was the only person there for confession. We exchanged hellos, then he went in the box and announced "Ok, we're open for business!"

I'll end with this picture of dapper two-time Oscar nominee Colin Firth in The Importance of Being Earnest. Happy Friday!

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