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Out of a shameful chapter in U.S. history, moments of grace.

That pretty much sums up the remarkable collection of handmade objects on view at the Renwick Gallery exhibit, The Art of Gaman: Arts and Crafts from the Japanese American Internment Camps, 1942-1946.

I knew about the camps, of course, thanks to my AP American History teacher, but the experience of internees seems underreported even today.

The 120,000 ethnic Japanese who were forcibly relocated during the war– a shocking two-thirds of whom were American citizens by birth–evidently found ways to make art amid the misery. Paintings, Buddhist shrines, carved teapots, hand-sewn baseball jerseys: they’re all testament to years spent waiting, creating objects of beauty as the California desert sent clouds of dust rolling through the barracks.

The exhibit’s most unforgettable items are the small, carved bird pins, painted in painstaking detail. Based on photographs from back issues of National Geographic, the pins were particularly popular in the arts and crafts classes offered throughout the camps. Japanese love of craftsmanship aside, it’s easy to imagine the artists taking mental flight.

The Art of Gaman runs through January 30, 2011.

I’ve got a pretty good handle on the kaleidoscope of travel guidebooks out there and what each offers. Several friends have authored guides, and I’ve long relied on Lonely Planet or Rough Guides to steer me through Shanghai or Istanbul, away from the madding crowds.

So, at the Phillips Collection recently, I was pleasantly surprised to stumble on a guidebook series I’d never seen before: the This Is… city series for kids, created 50 years ago by Czech author/illustrator Miroslav Sasek.

Sasek’s first guide, This Is Paris, pays homage to the city’s concierges, waiters, flower vendors and artistes in charming watercolors, from the Jardin du Luxembourg to the steps of the Sacre-Coeur. Issued in 1959, it’s a little dated now– Parisian gendarmes no longer wear capes or ride bicycles– but it captures the spirit of the city with a child-like wonder that holds up over time.

In fact, it makes Paris seem like one big adventureland, Moroccan carpet-sellers, dog cemeteries and all. A great gift for anyone with a jones for all things Gallic.

I’ve now got a copy resting comfortably next to my Lonely Planet Vietnam.

Sasek’s This Is Paris, This Is London, and This Is San Francisco are available in the Phillips Collection gift shop, and also on Amazon.

In the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden, the Thinker on a Rock contemplates the remains of Snowmageddon.

I love portraits for the same reason I love memoirs: they go deep where journalistic works go broad. With paintings or photographs, I find myself making all sorts of assumptions about the emotional life of the subject, based on a glance, gesture or pose.

The Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition exhibition, now on at the National Portrait Gallery, offers a chance to invent 49 back stories via a wildly diverse group of finalist entries. Here, my three favorites:


Sarah, David by Yolanda del Amo captures an estranged couple in the midst of ending a marriage. As the woman sits helplessly among packed boxes, we see her male partner through the kitchen door, looking bewildered. Searing.


Tara Cronin by Satomi Shirai is all about 21st century multiculturalism. The subject is half Korean, half-Irish but born and raised in the U.S. According to the exhibition notes, she now considers herself of no particular cultural orientation. It all melds together. I know people like this.


Irish journalist and activist Nell McCafferty wins for bravery. Portrait of Nell by Daniel Mark Duffy celebrates a woman who decided to “get over herself” at age 60 and confront aging head on. I’m impressed. A defiant f**k you to youth; a salute to life, well-lived.

The Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition 2009 is on through August 22, 2010 at the National Portrait Gallery.

I loved this cool infographic of museum admission tags from around the world by Fast Company magazine. From a designer’s perspective, these have got to be fun to work on; they’re the museum’s thumbprint, and the most successful ones (like the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s da Vinci “M” tag) become iconic.

This is one aspect of museumgoing that DC residents and visitors miss out on: the various branches of the Smithsonian, and many other no-admission museums here, don’t use them. Of the few that I’ve picked up around town, however, I have to give props to the Corcoran’s winged lion. It’s got a strong brand identity and exudes gravitas.

The National Gallery of Art’s new blockbuster show, From Impressionism to Modernism: The Chester Dale Collection, is really a “best of” the gallery’s holdings. Upon Dale’s death in 1962, the gallery received more than 300 works from the bond trader’s collection, and it’s a star-studded lot.

Fans of impressionism will find plenty to soak in, including fan favorites “Girl with a Watering Can” by Pierre-Auguste Renoir and “Four Dancers” by Edgar Degas. But I read the exhibit primarily as an appreciation of women. In one room, you’ll find Matisse’s “La Coiffure”, Cassatt’s “Mother and Child” and Modigliani’s “Nude on a Blue Cushion”: femininity in its many guises.

Of all the paintings in the room, it was the Modigliani that people had a hard time walking away from– something about the subject’s “come hither” gaze and rose-orange skin. If there were an illustration of “seduce” in the dictionary, this might be it.

From Impressionism to Modernism runs through July 31, 2011 at the National Gallery of Art.

Image: Nude on a Blue Cushion, Amedeo Modigliani

Homage to Salinger

Once DC has dug out from Snowmageddon, check out the National Portrait Gallery’s homage to J.D. Salinger: the original portrait created for a 1961 Time magazine cover, in which the famously anti-authoritarian scribe stands against an amber wave of grain.

And if you’ve ever doubted Salinger’s eccentricity, read this fascinating essay by Joanna Smith Rakoff, a former literary agency staffer who opened Salinger’s fan mail for many years. I’ve read several pieces on Salinger since his Jan. 27 death; Rakoff’s is by far the most illuminating.

Snowmageddon Silence

If you were hoping to visit any DC museums this weekend, forget it. I got as far as Taft Bridge in Woodley Park.

Lists can be a window into someone’s soul.

My grandfather, for example, was an expert listmaker, forever jotting down instructions and to-do items in distinctive block print on graph paper, a nod to his days as an engineer. When we’d visit him in his later years, I’d find penciled lists of things he wanted to tell my mom tucked away in a desk drawer.

These notes were bittersweet– “getting old is hell,” said one– and I always felt as if I’d stumbled on a personal diary.

Turns out great artists keep lists equally as revelatory. You’ll find a few on display this month at the National Portrait Gallery (via the Archives of American Art) in what might be Washington’s quirkiest exhibit of the year.

Lists: To-dos, Illustrated Inventories, Collected Thoughts and Other Artists’ Enumerations from the Archives of American Art includes a handmade address book by Alexander Calder; a list of “29 personal facts” by H.L. Mencken; and a lengthy list of home improvements planned by architect Eero Saarinen shortly before his death.

Willem de Kooning’s “notes for a tax return” reveals the artist earned $6664 in 1953, and a liquor store receipt issued to Franz Kline shows he bought $275 worth of booze for a New Year’s Eve blowout in 1960.

Traveler that I am, I most enjoyed painter Adolf Konrad’s illustrated list of items he planned to pack for a 1962-63 trip to Egypt and Rome. His tiny watercolors could’ve been a model for the J. Peterman catalog: three pairs of socks, a camera, a toothbrush, a couple overcoats, and tubes of oil paints.

All that’s missing is the overwrought copy: “Her eyes glowed violet as we set off down the Nile…”

Lists runs through September 19, 2010, at the National Portrait Gallery.

I’ve been glued to CNN’s Haiti coverage in recent days but forced myself to take a break and hit a couple of new-ish exhibits at the Newseum this weekend. I don’t often visit–at $20 a pop, it’s the most expensive museum ticket in town–but two installations, Inside Tim Russert’s Office: If It’s Sunday, It’s Meet the Press, and Athlete: The Sports Illustrated Photography of Walter Iooss, turned out to be worth my once-a-year tour of the place.

Though I think NBC went overboard in its non-stop memorializing of Tim Russert when he died in June 2008, the Newseum’s recreation of the newsman’s office is a poignant remembrance of a guy who lived and breathed politics. Of special interest: the white board on which Russert wrote “Florida ! Florida ! Florida !” during the Bush-Gore election debacle; the baseballs he kept in his desk awaiting the next Meet the Press guest’s signature; and Russert’s reading glasses, strewn on a pile of papers just as left them the day he collapsed at his office, a sad reminder that he was struck down in his prime.

Walter Iooss’s photographs are also recommended, sports fan or not. There are shots of the greats–Michael Jordan, Arnold Palmer, Mohammed Ali–but the most compelling images are of kids, enjoying sport for fun. I especially loved the shot of a group of kids playing stickball on a street corner in Cuba– it nicely conveys the joy and freedom of childhood summers– and one of several Brazilian boys bracing for a direct kick in a soccer game. You can feel their fear.

Interestingly, Iooss notes he had a hard time shooting Tiger Woods, who is shown stepping up to the tee, and was scolded by Woods’ caddy for overstepping his bounds.

“Getting close to Tiger is a problem,” Iooss writes.

Right. In more ways than one.

The Newseum is good for a few moments of irony at least, but I couldn’t escape the news of the day.

On my way out, I stopped at the museum’s Pulitzer Prize Photographs Gallery (one of my favorites) and stumbled on a 2008 photo of a mud-caked Haitian boy pushing a stroller through debris left by Tropical Storm Hanna.

The Miami Herald photographer who snapped it said he wondered if Haiti would recover from the series of storms and hurricanes that hit that year. “It made you ask, Why?,” he writes next to the photo.

No answer forthcoming.

Inside Tim Russert’s Office runs through December 31, 2010; Athlete runs through January 16, 2011.

Photo: Patrick Farrell, The Miami Herald

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