On Tuesday, I decided it was time to see a museum. After seeing virtually every museum available in San Diego, I was experiencing some withdrawal syndromes after a week here in Los Angeles. My brain was feeling unstimulated, and I hadn’t recorded my humble thoughts on an art piece in over two weeks.
On the recommendation of my sister, I decided to visit the Japanese American History Museum in Little Tokyo. This town was an abrupt shift after rounding the corner of what seemed like the industrial center of the city. When walking down Alameda Street from Union Station, the grey walls of the “detention center” can provide a convincing guise for this cultural hotspot, providing a filter for the less-than-well-researched tourists.
In Little Tokyo I discovered a very cool little Sushi place named Sushi & Teri. The restaurant had a title befitting a utilitarian restaurant with typical Japanese convention. The pricing is the best attribute of the restaurant, followed by the portions.
The typical (and usually overpriced) dinner of Sushi is often made up of standard Japanese portions, which to the American, are miniaturized. The typical “American owned” response to typical Japanese foods are to make large Sushi rolls, packed with the least healthy ingredient, white rice. The portions in this meal were more median.
For eleven US Dollars, I was able to purchase a spectacularly flavorful bowl of freshly made Miso Soup, a plate of well-seasoned teriaki chicken (prepared the correct way, not over saturated with sauce and sodium), two pieces of fried zucchini, an almost-fresh garden salad, a medium-sized drink, and four rolls of typical California Roll. Fantastic. Free food always tastes better to me.
After the long awaited meal of sushi, I was ready for some museum action. I wandered across the street and stepped inside the museum lobby.
Cold air surged through my clothing and fought to remove the warm pockets of air from my wool shirt. I shivered. It was a warm day, and the cold was very welcome.
I paid my dues ($4) and entered the museum. While making my way to the first exhibit, I tried to lecture myself “You don’t have all day here, the museum is closing in a couple of hours…you don’t need to read EVERYTHING!”. My premeditated mantra was forgotten instantly, however, when I spotted the “Audio Tour by Cell Phone” sign.
A brilliant invention, this simple idea blew me away. I was impressed. The museum had created various audio tracks, corresponding with the exhibit numbers, and made them available to anyone with a cell phone by dialing a number and entering a three-digit number.
The first exhibit, Living Flowers was created using live flowers and plants. Because of this, the displays are switched out on the Monday morning of each week. This means that anyone who visited the museum last week, would not have seen the same lovely flower arrangement I encountered.
I thought the exhibit was very well done, considering the subject matter. Not typically being one for plants, I focused my attention on various canvas art pieces which had been painted of plants and flower arrangements. My favorite of the canvased paintings was a piece called “Explosion”. In it, a beautiful explosion (literally) of roses and various flower pieces are bursting from the center of the piece. In my opinion, this painting is worth the $4 entry fee on its own.
Stepping solemnly up to the upper level of the museum, a shift is felt. The style switches from artistic flower arranging, to visual records and illustrations of the oppressive and inhumane actions of the US government during Pearl Harbor.
Artifacts and photos from the time are placed carefully on window-displays along the walls of the museum. Through a heavy glass door, faces of Japanese children and teenagers stare out at me in black and white, waiting, with hopeful smiles, in the rooms of concentration camps.
My favorite piece in the museum was a wooden replica of a Stereoscope. Stereoscopes were wooden platforms with wooden handles. On one side, built atop the platform, two magnifying lenses are placed within proximity of each other, designed to match the eyes when held to the face. On the other side is an affixed mount, designed to hold specially printed cards. When a card is placed on the stereoscope and peered at through the glass lenses, the images printed on the cards blend to create one three-dimensional images. These devices were taken quite seriously during the time before a television in every home.
Unfortunately, my mantra had failed to impact my actions, and by the time I was halfway through the museum, it was beginning to close.
I managed to see enough to get a decent understanding of the exhibits, but wish I could have stayed longer. A truly interesting museum with a perfect setting.
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This was an interesting, but uninspiring post to me. Didn’t create much interest for me to go to the Japanese-American History Museum at all. What I liked the most were the pictures. And, toward the end of the piece, there were too few of them.
Looking forward to your next post, though. Thanks again for your highly competent help today.