Plowing the mind: Form follows function

From DC October 2009

We were in DC last week to see Emily and to attend the first Jack Kemp Foundation luncheon and reception and dinner. We were only going to have a total of two days there, and one day was the lunch/reception/dinner. On Tuesday, the plan was to go see the National Building Museum (where Em is interning on Wednesdays and Fridays), and then back to one of our favorites, the Newseum, followed by the National Gallery to see whatever Loren Barton painting they had there. We ended up in love with the Building Museum and didn't leave until time to meet Em for dinner.

From DC October 2009

It's hard to get a sense of how HUGE those columns are. They are some of the biggest of their type in the world. But unless you're alongside their bigness, you don't really get it. Emily was at work and thus I thought it permissable to hug one.

Rob had business calls to make so I wandered off to explore a bit while he sipped his latte and chatted with India.

From DC October 2009

We went on a tour, in which it looked like the two of us would be the only ones on the tour. We were looking at the Presidential Seal that was done in tile, hearing about all of the Inaugural Balls that had taken place there (along with Hillary Clinton's concession speech, which is why it looked a little familiar to me the first time I saw a photo). The tour guide then told us about the architect, General Montgomery Meigs (pronounced "megs"). She spoke about him in animated but reverential tones, explaining that Meigs received some architectural training at West Point, then was quartermaster general of the U.S. Army during the Civil War where he supervised the construction of barracks, supply depots, and other buildings. His son died during the war and Meigs went to Europe to recuperate from his loss. It was there that he fell in love with Italian Renaissance architecture.

Just as our guide had finished her loving tribute, a man walked up to join the tour. He introduced himself as "Steven Meigs." I kid you not. He is the great-great-grand nephew (I think I have the proper number of "greats" in there) of General Meigs. It was a Woody Allen moment, for sure. He had never been in the building before, and our tour guide had never had someone so illustrious on her tour before. She was giddy with excitement.

From DC October 2009

Meigs was given the commission in 1881 and supervised the construction for the next 6 years. The building was to be a home for the Pension Bureau. At that time, the Pension Bureau's activities consumed nearly a third of the federal budget, so this commission was a pretty big deal. His orders were to make it inexpensive, efficient, fireproof, and oh, by the way, please include a large, grand space for Washington political and social functions. At the time it was built, it was the largest brick building in the world. And it impressed Grover Cleveland enough that he held his first inaugural ball there in 1885.

From DC October 2009

Meigs took the designs of a Renaissance palace as his starting point. But he didn't build a palace. He built a place for Civil War veterans to come to pick up their pensions. He used common brick. Instead of a frieze depicting ancient Greek or Roman battles, he chose to depict something closer to his heart - the Civil War. The amazing frieze wraps around the whole building and was cast in terra cotta instead of carved in marble. Instead of ornate finials and flourishes, he made decorative cannons and exploding cannon balls. He knew his audience and he wanted to please them.

From DC October 2009

Each detail followed Meig's goal of simplicity, economy, and practicality. You can feel his love and respect for the common veteran in the earthy brick, the easy slope of the steps, and in the conspicuous lack of extravagant detail. I never quite imagined that each veteran had to go to Washington, to this building, to receive his payment. There was a big vault upstairs, and each payment was in cash.

After our tour, we went to two exhibits - one on parking garages, and one on store-front churches.

I'm not sure either of us were excited to learn about the history of parking garages. But it's really interesting. Really. Our favorite was the automatic lift from the 30's where you would drive the car onto a platform and then the car would be moved up like a giant ferris wheel of cars. There were many variations on the theme and they had names like: Circ-L-Park, Park-A-Back, Park-O-Mat, Sky-Park, Space-O-Matic, Park-A-Loft, File-A-Way, and Ver-A-Park. In love with the hyphen.

The most beautiful parking garage is the one on the flyer above. It's in Santa Monica, and I had no idea that it existed. A field trip is in the works.

From DC October 2009

And last but not least was the exhibit, "Storefront Churches: Photographs by Camilo Jose Vergara." Emily was so sure I'd love the exhibit that she bought me the exhibit book before I could buy it for myself. It's nice to know your kids know you so well...

Vergara began photographing churches in poor, minority communities in the late 70's. He often returns to document the same buildings, and likes to show how ordinary structures "assume, modify, and shed a religious character." He was interested in the quantity, vitality, and the poignancy of formally dressed church members coming out of decaying buildings and walking home through decaying neighborhoods.

From DC October 2009

I walk through the exhibit and the only thing holding me back from tears was the guard who was trying his best to a.) make sure I didn't take a photo of the exhibit and b.) be my friend. For years I have been madly in love with a church building in Mojave, one that found its way into my screenplay. It's in a converted warehouse and is called the "Full Gospel House of Prayer." I wondered if Vergara knew about it.

From DC October 2009

And then it struck me. We were inside a building that was modeled after a palace, but its function ordained the character of its form. A palace would never do for the veteran coming to receive his hard-earned payment. The building was a tribute to wars fought and victories won. It was a tribute to frugality, safety, and comfort. A tribute to grand ideas and humble origins.

From DC October 2009

So, too, were the storefront churches. Close by to the people they served, modest in the flesh, but grand in name and spirit. (Could there be a better name for a church than "Thank God For Jesus"?) No towering spires or elaborately carved gargoyles or intricate stained glass. This is shout hallelujah and drop-to-your-knees worship. This is worship where its clear who and what you're serving. No "edifice complex" here (as my Uncle Dick calls it). I think Jesus would feel at home at any of these churches. Me too. Thank God.