Visionaries

It feels like my friend Susan and I are the only two people on all of Capitol Hill that are working today. Thus, it is kind of hard to motivate to do anything.

Anything. At all.

My parents came for a visit this weekend. They saw my show on Saturday and I believe they enjoyed it (or so they say). They had a number of questions about some of the plot twists, but reasonable and smart questions, which provided for interesting conversation fodder.

Other weekend highlights included:

Dinner on Friday at Sonoma. The restaurant/wine bar opened up about maybe six months ago, an exciting addition for hill dwellers since, generally, the Hill has been home only to mediocre pub type places and a handful of decent but very casual ethnic restaurants. Sonoma emerged on the scene as something of a destination spot, which is exciting and needed over here.

The place is lovely, very sparse design but really well conceived - loud, would be my only complaint (lots of hard surfaces that bounce the sound around) - the service was almost ridiculously attentive, and yes, the food was good. My dad brought wine (yeah, my dad brought wine to a wine bar) because despite that being something of a focus for them, they actually sport a really reasonable corkage fee. Dad read that on the web site, and since he is currently obsessed with Italian wines, brought two of his picks down from Poughkeepsie.

Both very good, though admittedly by the third glass I may not have been the most discerning drinker.

The food was simple - we started with a cheese plate that we shared (my cousin came along as well) then each ordered some small, some larger plates. I had a delicious tuna, extremely rare and wonderfully tender. All good, engaging conversation (my cousin is a vibrant addition to any dinner, having spent time in Mozambique, Georgia - the country, and Nicaragua, all in the past two months), and a pleasant atmosphere. Overall a great spot for a special occasion. Two thumbs up.

The next day we traveled through the monsoon that hit the East Coast this weekend, to make it up to Baltimore for Saturday. One of my best friends from college was in town for a wedding, and staying in Baltimore with her husband and eleven-month-old, whom I had not yet met. So, the parents and I headed north, and first hit up the Baltimore attraction I have wanted to check out for years now, but have not managed to see.

The American Visionary Art Museum emerges just as you hit the Inner Harbor area of Baltimore (lots of museums, chain restaurants, and touristy spots). We followed the directions from the website, and suddenly there was this warehouse-like building with crazy things coming out of it in the more unexpected of places. A gigantic hand on the third floor. A huge bird's nest made of twisty wrought iron coming out of the side of the building.

Surrounding the complex of buildings were trees festooned with shining mirrored mobiles, magical, delicate ornaments totally covering the tree - with the result being something that you imagine must exist only in Alice's wonderland, or Narnia, or somewhere, anywhere - but Baltimore, MD.

The museum is truly wonderful. I'd heard that, but didn't quite get it until visiting. The work is all by self-taught artists (meaning that they didn't go to art school - duh) but it encompasses so much more, something far greater than that simple definition.

Each artist displayed there has an amazing story - really, each and every one. And you don't get bored of reading them. There are the pieces of art, their titles, and then a little placard that explains who the artist is and how it is they came to create art.

One woman lost her aunt and two relatives to a house fire where the firemen simply could not break down the front door, and immediately afterwards she started creating these vividly painted doors, covered with words and images and bits of found art materials. Another woman was diagnosed as retarded, sent to a home, where she developed her own form of pointellism and started painting paper plates.

They were beautiful. Truly stunning.

Art provided an escape, a dream, a home, and therapy for most of these practitioners. They were often the victims of abuse, of poverty, or economics, of racism. And they managed to channel the dark scenes from their lives into stunning art. Truly magnificent.

As our country continues to cut arts funding and schools can no longer afford art and music classes, I think - a trip to this museum should be mandatory for every legislator with any say in these decisions. I have never seen a better argument for the necessity of art in our world.

Truly. If you are in the area. Go. Please. It is worth a trip.

I can't wait to go back.

Afterwards we headed deeper into the inner harbor where we met my friends and their small new addition for lunch. The child is beautiful, happy, joyful. The parents are beautiful, happy, joyful. My mother got her baby fix for the weekend. And I got to catch up with friends who I met when I was eighteen and somehow knew even then that these people should be in my life, forever.