Once again we’re rubber to road on I-70 eating little bunny-shaped cookies sent from home. The grey is closing in but the rain’s let up and after tonight we’re 100% east-bound, headed home.
It’s absolutely impossible for me to describe how exquisite the last 24 hours. My words fail me. Collectively we took 498 photographs and videos. And they fail me. I’ve had to cut them down to what you see here in the Journal for the sake of not filling a hundred pages of traversing tubes [the advantage of moving the Journal – I’ve added a LOT of photos – rob 8/19/19], examining lead type in the walls, wondering at happy manta rays, wandering through caves… I got stuck in a couple of narrow corridors, startled a number of small squeaking children, got lost and had to ask same squeaking children for directions. Thanked a number of previously un-mentioned deities for the foresight that involved me having a flashlight in my pocked so I could make my way back out of the weird oubliettes that I’d stumbled into. My heart skipped a beat as I encountered monsters with teeth, or again, unexpected squeaking children.
There have been many amazing experiences on the road over the last five and a half years, enough that I can’t really point to any one thing in particular and say “that – THAT was the best day – THAT was the most beautiful thing – THAT was the most exquisite experience” – but I CAN say without a doubt that the City Museum of Saint Louis, MO is the single most amazing man-made artifact we’ve had the pleasure to experience. If I seem overly ebullient (thank you Mike), that’s only because you haven’t been there.
Go there. But rent the knee pads.
It gets me thinking of top 10 type lists… finest moments. I’ll have to place my brain to that task – and I’ll probably put thunderstorms in Arizona on there, the Redwoods of California, waking up in the snow in Estes Park would vie for a top position… seeing Will Shaff and his What Cheer Brigade – and the City Museum. I’m full of the after-wash of joy.
We spent the day running around in the City Museum. We should’ve gotten there earlier. Don, a friend we’d made the night before at the Cabin Inn’s open mic, was all too happy to take us on a tour from the ground floor to the top of the museum. He has been with the project for a while and though he hides it well beneath a steady tone and an almost-bored tour-guide affectation, little slips of “and now – the best view in the city” and other such comments let the pride shine from him. He explains that the crane on the roof is operational and integral in dragging things like the school bus to the roof and other objets d’art into the interior of the building. He talks about the owner being somewhat reclusive, but attending art openings and the 10-year anniversary of the museum in a tuxedo and work boots. He introduces us to the welding crew who are braving the drizzle to rebuild the dome of a planetarium swiped from some disused building in the area. He pulls us through a big ballroom occupied by a single woman embroidering in a corner and describes some of the events, including the fact that they’ve donated the space for roller-derby bouts.
We spent 4 hours there and felt rushed. And it was too rainy to do anything outside – so we didn’t wander the exterior tunnels and slides at all. I think I need to go back at least two more times before I’ll feel like I’ve grasped the place, and then apparently it’s ever-changing. A yearly pilgrimage, though unlikely, seems necessary.
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As part of our pay at the Cabin Inn, we received free passes to run amok in the City Museum. I got an extra one for Susan and run amok we did. It’s impossible for me to describe the experience – but this picture can give you a vague idea of the sheer enormous spectacle of the place. Everything is a monster, everything is made of something else, and everything has had painstaking attention paid to it. Ever-evolving, this is the single greatest piece of artwork I’ve ever seen. Not so much a museum as a Living and breathing sculpture.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
One of the best things about being a musician is that you meet people. As we performed at the Cabin Inn’s open mic the night before, we met Don, the cultural programmer for the City Museum. Absolutely smitten with Heather’s voice, he offered to take us on a tour of the Museum the next day. It meant that we got a little more of the history of the place, and had a little more access. Of the 15 floors of the building, a disused shoe factory, only 4 (and a half) are generally open to the public. A number of other floors is given over to private loft-residences, and then there’s the roof: there’s a mosaiced swimming pool, a crane (operational and used frequently – dude – DON’T park illegally at the City Museum), a school bus, an elephant… though at the moment this is the private playground of those who Live there, with the completed transferal of a disused planetarium dome (I shot this picture from the top of it, next to the giant steel praying mantis) they plan to possibly open it to the public.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA Looking back I remember how unnervingly this guy reminded me of Trevor Higgens… holy crap, the dopplegangery is real!
Beyond all the architectural wonders and sheer beauty of the structure, beyond the animals and the collections of strangeness (shelves of gargoyles, cases of beautiful old doorknobs, church windows, the cross used in the Excorcist of all things…) – there are people teaching beading, helping children paint clouds, tables of arts and crafts and shows. Above is a juggler playing to a packed house probably affecting more peoples’ Lives in a day than I can hope to in a year. There’s a lot of joy packed into this vaudevillian construct.
Getting from the most interesting point As to the most fascinating point Bs never involved a straight-forward walk. Heather and I clamboured through tubes and tunnels, climbed ladders and slid down slides. Today my knees and elbows are bruised and blackened (they should ADVERTISE the fact that they rent kneepads!!!!) but I’m proud to be able to squiggle my way anywhere any of those kids could… almost… actually, a couple of times I had to turn around when things got too tight, but mostly I held my own.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Susan accompanied us though most of the City Museum in Saint Louis, MO. Proudly sporting her ilyAIMY non-colours, though she didn’t brave any tunnels, tubes or slides she communed with the numerous birds and probably would’ve been there to laugh at us if we’d gotten stuck.
Even wandering the aquarium involved crawling through tubes. Here’s Heather after she discovered an albino sea turtle.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Okay – this is a little hard to describe, but after climbing all the way UP the City Museum (via the spiral staircases you see here) you can slide all the way back down in terrifying darkness. And then if you slip down a little crevice, follow a squeaking child, and really REALLY want to find the Enchanted Caverns, you end up at the very base of the whole thing. Peering up at Heather. Wondering how the Hell to get back out.
I’d seen pictures of it in the brochures – the Enchanted Caves deep in the bowels of the City Museum in Saint Louis, MO. Everything had teeth and closing was closing in on me, and I had no idea how to get back out!
While waiting for our turn on the stage, I went over and introduced myself to this grand snuffly bulldog. He was interested in licking my face and catching fish out of the fountain. He perpetrated the former, his owners succeeded in thwarting him in the latter.
Heather and I performing at the Cabin Inn in Saint Louis, MO. That gigantic bucket in front of us was NOT for tips – but for drips. The rain was so fierce outside that there were a number of breakthrough points. And not just for water.
Nashstreet of Mississippi was the act before us at the Cabin Inn in Saint Louis, MO. A five piece blue grass group clustered around a couple of condenser mics. They were quite rollicking. Beautiful humans too.
After a very full day of exploration, Susan and Heather and I ran out to a local drum store, picked up a very unique shaker, got dinner, and made it back to the Cabin Inn in time to watch a bluegrass / country act called NashStreet perform the set before ours. They packed the bar and despite constant issues with feedback, put on an admirable show. Very young, but with one of the finest female mandolin players I’ve ever seen (yes Avril Smith, I’d compare her to you) – and we can drop the qualifier – one of the best mandolin players I’ve ever seen PERIOD, good harmonies, they were tight, polished…I was very flattered to have them as our opening act.
After they were wrapped up, we did a quick change-over and tried to keep their audience in addition to our own. Though they stuck around for a while, they eventually filtered out leaving us with a much smaller but still very enthusiastic crowd of people. We eventually captured a batch of skaters from the upstairs half-pipe and a number of the people who Lived in the building. Susan had a dance floor all to herself, but the rest of the audience sat rapt.
It was a good night to be in out of the rain in Daniel Boone’s old hand-built cabin, deconstructed and rebuilt in the base of a building in downtown Saint Louis. A very good night.
Illinois is indeed over-freakin-flowing. AGAIN. We’re trying to load out from Susan’s house through the lake of her yard and though I’ve got big flaming boots and can walk on a cushion of steam of my own creation, Heather needs a more mundane solution.
And Susan’s parrot has the right idea. Enjoy the wet and then find something warm to cuddle. Love of the physical comforts… cheese and warmth and elbows… that is the mark of Rafiki.
