Contemporary Arts Museum Houston

On Friday, June 17, I ran by the doctor's office to pick up a referral. Since the office is next to the MFAH, I typically walk over from work at lunchtime and take a pass through the museum. This time I drove (saving the time of walking) with the intention of hitting one of the other nearby museums. But, a quick peek inside the MFAH was still possible, and I was pleased to see a new acquisition by Frank Stella on display.

The Contemporary Arts Museum Houston (CAMH) seemed like the place to go. I used to frequent this museum (which does not have a permanent collection), since it is across the street from the MFAH, but it has been some time since I have been inside. Contemporary art (like contemporary music, dance, theater, etc.) can be hit or miss. The CAMH has hosted several wonderful exhibits, most notably Matthew Ritchie's Proposition Player and a retrospective of Jim Love after he passed away. But some of the diverse media used by artists are not to my liking, particularly films. So, the primary exhibit on display, Stan VanDerBeek: The Culture Intercom, was not my cup of tea.

A better exhibit was downstairs, Perspectives 174: Re: Generation. This exhibit showcased work from Houston area teens. Many of the museums in Houston promote the work of area youth, which is wonderful. The standout here was Casey Herrick's ceramic piece, Black and White Television. The museum routinely publishes small brochures for their perspectives series, and one was available for the nominal fee of $2.00. I like brochures for exhibits (which provide details on the art that I can read later as well as images from the exhibit; especially important when you are prohibited from photographing the art). The cost factor may prohibit museums from producing free brochures for exhibits, and offering a low-cost brochure is an excellent compromise.

I've always found the CAMH building (designed by Gunnar Birkerts) to be uninspired. The open floor plan upstairs and downstairs allows for great flexibility in producing exhibits (very important for a non-collecting museum), but does practicality have to be so bland?

James Surl: Molecular Three and Three, 2011, outside of the CAMH

Houston Center for Photography

Well, I was at the Station Museum (1502 Alabama), and I needed to get to the PetSmart at Alabama and Shepherd (or the cat was going to go hungry). The Menil just happened to be between those two points. Surely I could pop in and look at the new Joseph Cornell boxes on display as well as Wayne Thiebaud's Delicatessen Counter, 1962, which they have not displayed in years. But, the Houston Center for Photography (HCP) is right next to the Menil, and it made much more sense to stop there.

Short, lunchtime visits to museums are not the most conducive to a thorough and contemplative appreciation of the exhibits, but they can give you the lay of the land. And if there is a work you want to spend more time with, you can always come back. For unknown reasons, I have not really cared for photography as art, which is why I have not visited HCP before. The Menil and MFAH routinely display photographs, however, so I have gradually been gaining an appreciation for photography.

I was pleasantly surprised that I enjoyed all of the exhibits (and my visit on June 15 was timed perfectly since the exhibits closed four days later). The largest exhibit was "Teenagers: Portraits of Identity and Expression." Martine Fougeron's photos of her two teenage sons made me glad that I did not have an artistic mother to record the process of growing up. While many of the photos were innocuous (the boys reading a book or getting a haircut), others were of a more intimate nature. Works by Bryan Schutmaat and Kendrick Brinson were in another gallery, and another area was devoted to works of local high school students.

While enjoying the photographs, I had an epiphany: most of the works I liked were portraits. I knew subconsciously that for pre-impressionistic art, I strongly favored portraits, followed by still lifes, with landscapes far behind (so I dislike almost all paintings by the Hudson River School). Since I have really never associated photography with painting, I did not get the connection. This also explains my strong dislike for the photos of Ansel Adams, whose landscape and nature photographs were immensely popular when I was young.

HCP had a great layout, with galleries that felt both cozy and spacious. They also had a digital dark room area and a great library for visitors to use. I felt a bit concerned about the gentleman who was going to appear in my photo of the library, but I then thought: "He's in a center for photography, he probably expects me to take his photo."

The John Cleary Library at HCP

There were several other interesting things about HCP: Most of the photos were for sale with a price list easily available (prices ranged from $100 for student works up to $5,000). Also, they used QR Codes extensively on their brochures and placards. I have wondered whether QR Codes will fizzle or take off, and it was nice to see them used beyond the magazine ads that I have primarily seen them in. The next time I'm at the Menil, I will have to make time to walk across the street and see what is going on HCP.

Station Museum

In trying to visit all of Houston's museums, I have run into two questions: What constitutes a museum, and how can I find a listing of all of Houston's museums? I will comment on the first question in a later post, but for the second question, I have been using a variety of print and electronic resources to pull together sites to visit. One of the resources is a Museum Locator app that I had already downloaded to my iPhone. This is not a very robust app (it has missed many museums in other cities), but my search for Houston produced two museums that I had not heard of. So, the Station Museum of Contemporary Art was next up on June 15.

This museum emphasizes "fine arts and artists that are rarely, if ever acknowledged by other cultural institutions. The museum's goal is to encourage the public's awareness of the cultural, political, economic, and personal dimensions of art." This brought to mind a recent article in the New York Times: Should Classical Music Be Political? The artist on display, George Gittoes, specifically commented about his work: "My art isn’t very palatable—it isn’t meant to be—I feel that there are a lot of artists out there who are doing work which is about fashion, it’s about decoration or it’s about—how beautiful the world is …"

Sign advertising George Gittoes's exhibit

Art, in various media over time, has been political, scandalous, and unpalatable (and more). I tend to prefer art that is entertaining or morally uplifting, but I also appreciate art that challenges us. It is good that Houston has a museum with this goal in mind, and I wish I had heard about it before. I also was pleasantly surprised that they allowed photography inside (one of my pet peeves about museums).

USA sculpture at the Station Museum

Visitors are met with a political sculpture in the parking lot, and a sign on the door warned of "Strong Subject Matter." Highlights of the exhibit can be seen at the museum's website, and I found the artist's work to be thought-provoking and not too confrontational. In the end, I was rather ambivalent about the quality of the artwork, though I found his Blood & Tears from 1996 compelling. I did not make more than a quick pass through the exhibit, but I signed up for their mailing list to learn about other exhibits that might challenge (or inspire) me.

Warning sign on the Station Museum's door

Holocaust Museum Houston

"How did that disaster happen?"
Plaque in Holocaust Museum

A former coworker of mine used to work in the archives of the Holocaust Museum Houston, and she talked about how difficult it was to come to work every day, constantly surrounded by the gravity of the Holocaust. I must confess, I know relatively little about the Holocaust. I have read a couple of books, but I have shied away from movies or a deeper knowledge of the event. It is difficult for me to comprehend the motivations behind it and further education will just perplex, frustrate, and enrage me more. As one visitor at the museum remarked, "I never have understood it." I don't think any of us ever will.

The Holocaust Museum exists to educate people about the Holocaust and, as their visitor guide says, to "Stop Hate." Hatred and ignorance have always existed, but the sheer evil of the Nazis seems beyond comprehension. The destruction of the city Lidice has stuck in my mind as the model of the irrational scope and senseless inhumanity of the Holocaust.

June 13 was my third visit to this museum, but it had been several years since I had been. Photography is not allowed inside the museum, the centerpiece of which is a permanent exhibit and a video theatre (which was packed) that shows two thirty-minute videos (I did not stay for either). The permanent exhibit begins with Jewish family trees for local Houstonians, with the names of family members who perished in the Holocaust listed in black. There were a lot of names listed in black.

Photos, videos, placards, and displays detail various periods of the Holocaust including a grouping of some of the book titles that were burned by the Nazis on May 10, 1933. A nice local exhibit focused on Nathan Klein, owner of Klein Ice Cream, who sponsored more than one hundred Jewish immigrants in an effort to save them from the Holocaust. One photo had haunted me from an earlier visit: a mass of corpses found in 1945 in a concentration camp; very hard for me to look at and comprehend. "How did that disaster happen?"

In addition to the permanent exhibit, there are other galleries that display temporary exhibits; photos by Clemens Kalischer were on display in one. There is the Lack Family Room, which contains the Wall of Remembrance, Wall of Tears, and Wall of Hope, and allows for reflection and meditation.

Outside is the Eric Alexander Garden of Hope, and visitors are encouraged to take a rock and place it in the garden in remembrance of victims of the Holocaust. There are also two items on display: a 1942 Railcar "of the type used to carry millions of people to their deaths" and a 1942 Danish fishing boat "of the type used to save more than 7,200 Danish Jews from execution."

Plaque for the Garden of Hope with the trees and me reflected in it.

A gathering of stones placed in the garden in memory of victims of the Holocaust

The railcar is the curious item for me. Even knowing that a railcar like this transported millions to their deaths and were packed each time with as many as two hundred people (many who did not even survive the trip), I feel a sense of calm and solace inside it. It is not because the railcar is far removed from the association of the horrible event and is now "just a railcar" since other objects on display carry symbolic weight to me (particularly a striped uniform worn by a survivor of a concentration camp). It must be the realization that despite the horrors of the Holocaust, mankind survived. If the human race could survive the atrocities of the past, allowing me to stand here today in this railcar, it gives me hope that we can survive the challenges of tomorrow.

One of several engraved sections of a wall commenting on railcars

1942 railcar of the type used to transport victims

Interior of the railcar

Beer Can House

I finally made it to the Beer Can House. When this Houston icon was undergoing renovations several years ago, I helped out the cause by popping open a few beer cans. That is, I spent a day at a downtown warehouse popping open vintage beer cans for replacement parts to use on the house (and it was more than just a few; more like a few hundred). Unlike the creator of the house, John Milkovisch, we did not drink the beer in the cans to get our supplies; most were empties that collectors had donated, and the ones that still had beer (or remnants of beer in them) were tossed. The biggest surprise was the large number of Billy Beer cans they had. I vaguely remember hearing about this beer in the 1970s, but I promptly forgot all about it (rather like America did with Billy Carter). The pulltops we removed were used on chains that adorn the house, and the rest of the cans were saved for other volunteers to cut up later for additional parts.

Beer pulltab chain on the Beer Can House

I timed my visit perfectly since the day I went (Wednesday June 8) was the first of their weekday summer hours. I was the first visitor of the day (and probably their only one). This house, at 222 Malone Street, is just a stone's throw from Bayou Bend, so I easily could have visited it before; just poor planning on my part. The inside of the house contains a ten-minute film on the house by Scott Prescott and 2nd Unit productions. There are also photos, tools used to create the house, beer cans, and several items that were originally part of the exterior of the house that were brought indoors.

When a neighbor (who did not own a dog) put up a "Bad Dog" sign, Milkovisch responded by putting up a "Bad Cat" sign

But it is the exterior of the house that people come to see. When retired railroad worker John Milkovisch got tired of mowing grass, he paved over the yard with a mixture of cement, marbles, and other found objects. When he tired of painting the house, he covered it in beer cans. Actually, there is a lot of speculation on why Milkovisch really transformed his house into an homage to his favorite drink, but like most visionary artists, he clearly could see something that others could not.

The Beer Can House is truly amazing, and it is difficult to do justice to the creativity and ingenuity with words. You should watch this short Beer Can House Video with Jeff Hilliard to get a better idea of the place.

Front door of the Beer Can House, covered in beer labels

"Wind chimes" on the side of the house, made from tops of beer cans

Street address, made from marbles

One of my favorite items come from John's wife, Mary (who helped him drink a lot of the beer). She must have been a very understanding wife to let him transform their home, and she told him that he could do whatever he wanted to on the outside of the house, but the inside was hers. Still, she wanted a plot of land on the outside to make her mark, so around 1980, she added this lovely lemon tree.

Lemon Tree made with ReaLemon containers

I am not much of a beer drinker myself, but I could not resist raising a glass to one of Houston's quirkiest houses. So, I filled my Beer Can House pint with my malt beverage of choice, Smirnoff Ice, and I vowed to return soon.

Buffalo Soldiers National Museum

My second museum trip was to the Buffalo Soldiers National Museum. The term buffalo soldiers comes from the 10th Calvary of the U.S. Army, and this museum is dedicated to the contributions of African Americans in the defense of the United States. I thought this would make a great museum to visit the day after Memorial Day, but I could not get there until Friday, June 3. Photography was not allowed on the second floor of the museum, which featured a fourteen-minute video and historic photographs.

The story that stuck with me the most from the video (other than how the buffalo soldiers got their name, which you can get from the trusty Wikipedia link above) was that of Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., who was West Point's fourth black graduate. According to the video, "not one social word was spoken to him during his four years there." West Point's first black graduate was Henry O. Flipper in 1877. A memorable photo on the second floor was of the 24th Infantry Band (from 1899), which included both a black violinist and cellist.

The first floor featured a variety of displays of memorabilia. The most catching was a showers sign for "white officers" and "colored officers." It reminded me of the first time, and maybe the only time, I had seen a similar sign (at the Smithsonian), which was for a "whites only" water fountain.

Segregated showers sign

Since Houston is Space City, there was a display devoted to African Americans in the Space program.

Display of astronaut memorabilia

This museum experience was a different one for me. When I visit museums, I tend to look at them in terms of collections and specific objects, and I usually feel a strong connection with a few select items. For the Buffalo Soldiers Museum, I saw it less in terms of individual objects and more as a grouping of items that piece together a particular story, rather like looking at the contents of someone's suitcase and trying to identify where he is traveling. It was a story I did not know well and one I am happy that Houston is sharing with the world.

I used to pass by this museum while I was teaching a class at the University of Houston. I would always tell myself that I would stop by one day after class, but there was never enough time as I always too much to do (Harry Chapin's Cat's in the Cradle is now going through my head). I'm sorry it took me so long to get here.

Artwork outside the museum

Doc Porter Museum of Telephone History

I began my journey to Houston museums on Tuesday, May 24 at the Doc Porter Museum of Telephone History. I started here for two reasons: the museum is only open for three hours each Tuesday, and I thought this museum might be a bit of a yawn. I was definitely mistaken on the second point, and I wished I had budgeted more than my lunch hour for the visit.

The museum primarily covered telephones in three areas: telephones and equipment used by customers, indoor items (such as switchboards and telephone books) used by employees, and field equipment (including wires and telephone poles), also used by employees. My tour guide led me through the museum's collection of extensive and fascinating equipment, including early magneto phones and vanity phones, which were only available to the most wealthy around the turn of the twentieth century.

Early Magneto Phones

Folding vanity phone table c. 1892

Several interesting items dealt with activities related to the disabled. There was a telephone switchboard manned by blind operators and a display of Houston's nationally-ranked beep baseball team (played by blind athletes), the San Jacinto Pioneers. Many museum volunteers also help with the recording for the blind program.

Display items for the Beep Baseball team, the San Jacinto Pioneers

While signing the guest register, I noticed I was the first visitor that day (and no one came in after me). Flipping to the week before, the telephone museum only had three visitors. The small number of visitors is really a shame, because this museum has a great collection of interesting items (these few photos do not do the museum justice, but you can see more items as part of an online tour on the museum's web page) . There would be lots to interest kids, especially seeing the field equipment up close. For visitors who can't make it on Tuesdays, they museum does offer the option to have a scheduled tour at other times. If you haven't heard about this Houston museum, you should check it out.