Outdoor Galleries

My first week of a new house/new class/new job/new city was over--I finally had a free weekend with no scheduled obligations. After foolishly wasting my entire Saturday playing Civ IV in my dungeon/bedroom, I desperately needed to get outside. 

No one was available (something about "honoring their fathers on Father's Day," etc), so I went alone. I packed my bag with a book and set out on a "self-date."

With no real schedule or plans, I metro-ed into town and started meandering through the National Mall, which I had not been to in several years.

It's nice to see the Washington Monument finally wearing protection.

The weather was so nice that I took the time to wander through outdoor art galleries.

Dried up fountain. Apparently D.C. doesn't need tourist pennies.

The comically-large hat was a birthday gift from my sister to protect me from the sun. She also got me pepper spray to protect me from D.C. thugsters.

Throw a quaffle through it!

Ouch.

I'm one of those awful museum-goers who never reads the informational signs. I prefer to just look at a painting and go "haha, his hair looks funny" than read about the artist's original symbolic intent and genius in relation to the social upheaval of the time, etc.

I did however read enough about this particular oral piece where there were megaphones playing a recording of a woman singing. Turns out it was a "murder ballad," which is exactly what it sounds like.

From there I found another sculpture garden across the Mall. I recognized several of the pieces from my childhood photo albums, so I knew that I had been there before. 

One of the security guards was reprimanding a tourist for leaning against one of the artworks.

I spoke to him and his partner about what it was like guarding the outdoor gallery. They said that mostly they have to pull people out of the fountain and keep children from playing on the statues. They complained about how they wished that the "do not touch" signs were larger so that tourists could see them, but that the artists felt that the smaller signs were more aesthetically pleasing.

The guards were very talkative and pleasant. They delighted in insulting each other. I asked them how fast their scooter could go and one of them said, "well, with HIM on it, about 4 mph."

I walked past Donnie Darko's equally freaky cousin and played in a fountain a bit.

I also saw a husky, which reminded me of home. Go Dawgs. 

It was a very nice outing with myself.