Outside the Southwest Museum

Now that the Southwest Museum has resumed visiting hours on Saturdays, I thought I'd stop by on the spur of the moment for a quick visit.

The art outside waylaid me, though.  I never even made it inside.

The Arrival

As I pulled up to the parking lot behind the museum, there was just enough breeze to dissipate the heat of the adjacent hills, already tanned beige three days into summer.  I parked in the shade under a pepper tree, moseyed over to the museum ... and then paused at the sculpture I saw at the top of the stairs.

Was this the first time I’d seen it?

Maybe the piece is new.  Maybe it's because I was seeing the Museum with new eyes after time away.  Or maybe it’s because the last time I visited the museum I was with a passel of school kids, and consequently wildly distracted.  (True to form, the only people at the museum at the end of the six-hour visiting day were two kids and their mom.)

Whatever the reason, the sculpture was a welcome surprise.

The Rowers

You can’t look at the sculpture of cut-out steel and river rock and not smile.  In the piece, four Native Americans sit in a canoe, facing forward and paddling wildly.  The boat rests on a river of blue rock that looks like flowing water from a distance.  Bits of shell fan around the bow in the design like a pearly flower.  Even with the thin flatness of the metal, the rowers’ expressions are intent, serious, stoic.  Their paddles arch wildly overhead.  You can almost feel the forward movement.  They look like they’re going to shoot down the rapids of the staircase.

I liked it so much I laughed out loud.

The Totem Pole

I stayed a while with the rowers, then walked down the steps bordered with rosemary and succulents and a totem pole.  The little boys I’d seen earlier were draped around the totem’s base, gazing up, up, up and asking question after question.  The accents of pale pistachio green were a surprise alongside the red and black and brown.

The Squirrel

I headed into the courtyard.  A cheeky squirrel sat in the middle of the walkway.  He didn’t even blink at my approach, much less move. Clearly, the museum was his hunting ground and no mere art patron was going to scare him off.

I respectfully circled the squirrel and headed for the entrance.  I was almost to the doors only to be sidetracked by the sight of another cut-out steel sculpture tucked away along the south wall of the courtyard.

The Dancing Sculpture

Up close, the piece is far taller than it looks from a distance. The blocky components of the sculpture are rusted and red-brown against the pale wall.  The shape looks like something that could be snapped together today with wire and string and plastic.  Both modern and ancient, the sculpture’s spirit is exuberant; ready to spring out from the greenery that partially hides it.  It looks like it’s dancing.

Too Late For The Art Inside

I turned and headed back towards the museum entrance only to find the doors locked.  My brief visit had proved too short to take in the art inside as well as out.  It’s OK.  Now that the museum is open every Saturday from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., there’s always time for another visit.

The kids and their mother were long gone but the squirrel remained, chittering on the back of the bench, reminding visitors who’s boss of the museum courtyard.

I headed past the dancing sculpture, the totem pole, and the rowers eternally poised to launch down the hill toward the museum. 

They’ll all be there at my next visit.  Even, I’m sure, the squirrel.