A text exchange:
Friend: You need to take your kids to the Armory to see the thread exhibit if you haven't already. That's a whole day of "school" right there. It's cool.
Me: Will look into it. Thanks for the lead!
****
Me: ... it is cool. Thank you.
Friend: ... Have your kids write a paper on what the hell they thought the pigeons meant, and call that "school."
Me: The "guide" I tracked down told us that it was symbolic of communication (the reading of Aristotle, the nightly release, the daily return). Whatever. I can suspend/bridge enough for that... I just didn't get why the readers were in the faux animal skins??? We did really, really like it. Keep the cool event suggestions coming.
Friend: Cheater!
For the record: a) We are insanely grateful for all of the help that we're getting with the scheme... people teaching things to our kids, texting us suggestions, treating us like we're actually NOT this close to drinking the Kool-Aid. The communication/ideas/philosophies that we're getting from "the outside" is raising us higher than we could have gone on our own. b) It is totally NOT cheating to ask people for their interpretation of things... that's what I hope my kids are learning: ask for input, learn from others, explore the maps of people's brains. But do be sure to call out the emperor if he's naked (or wearing faux animal skins).
Today we went to the Armory on 67th/Park (it is a beautiful, beautiful building... we went to the antique show there once and I was immediately smitten), and participated in the ANN HAMILTON: the event of a thread exhibit.
Of course the children were thrilled to see the homing pigeons. The cages and water bottles are aesthetically beautiful.
We have never noticed that the cuticle (?) on their beaks are heart-shaped. The Girl pointed it out and as we went from wooden cage to wooden cage to confirm that every pigeon has it we were struck with a kind of quiet awe that we had never noticed it before. Not because as New Yorkers we pass pigeons everyday, but because we notice pigeons. The Boy has named the regulars on our block, for crying out loud.
This is what the pigeon set-up looks like:
There are two people in strange get-ups reading Aristotle (changes daily, but usually it's a philosopher) into microphones. The entrance of their voices into the building is done via speakers subtly around the walls. You have to actively listen for it. Apparently, the reading to the pigeons is symbolic of contributing depth into communication. Further, every night a vocalist goes onto the balcony and sings while the pigeons are released to go wherever they want in the cavern. A vinyl record is cut/the singing is recorded and that exact record is played back the next morning as the homing pigeons return to their wooden cages. Is it a reflection about our words flying away and then coming back to us? About communication being ethereal and symbolic at best?
Beyond the pigeons is an enormous silk sheet that is connected to swings and weights. As people swing the silkiness ripples.
We didn't have to wait long until we got our chance on a swing. I was surprised at what it feels like to push a swing that has such long chains. Not feeling the controlled arc that comes with shorter chains it was like I was pushing them off into an abyss -- in slow motion.
We walked up on the balcony and got a birds-eye view.
And then went back down and found a space under the billowing silk.
It never looks the same because its movement is dependent on how all the individual swings are being utilized. At times it almost brushed our faces and at other times it jerked a few feet above us.
I could have stayed under the whiteness for a long time, but the kids were excited for me to try a swing, so we went back and stood around until one became available.
It felt like floating.
When I was going forward.
My backward progression always ended in overly-enthusiastic little hands slamming into me before the swing was even close to finishing its backward journey. And then I would be pushed forward again -- floating towards a dancing white curtain with giggles in the air behind me. Since this field trip experience encouraged symbolic thinking I'll go ahead with this one: 2013 IS going to be a year when I no longer use motherhood as my excuse to not pursue my forward momentum. I've written a book that's been sitting for two years. It's a YA book that I crafted for a writing competition, but wasn't able to make the minimum word count before the deadline (I might have started five days before the deadline... as a bit of a lark... that turned into a frenzied four-day all-nighter as I got more and more into it). I think that it has potential. I think that there are some words and ideas that deserve to be given flight. The scheme is all about authentic learning and having the cajones to step into unknown territory. So I'll be working on that. I'll even put it here to document it -- make it official. If anybody knows/has a lead for an agent/publisher/editor/millionaire-who-wants-a-project let me know (I promise that my actual writing is a lot more pulled together than the el blog-o).
From The Girl: "The only thing that would make it better is if they let the pigeons out to perch on our fingers... while we swing." Yeah. What she said. The pigeons are there. The swings are there. Why not dream big?
