Ocular Athletics

Writing has been a bit of a problem with my boys. I'm not good at thinking up exciting writing assignments and frankly, writing assignments were something I dreaded in school myself. But ocular athletics is something different! Sounds exciting and masculine! So we are implementing Ocular Athletics on Thursdays (we need a day or the day will always be tomorrow). Every Thursday we will try and come up with a "tremendous trifle" of our own and the best will be presented here. Today's entry was written by my college son last semester for his comp class but I thought it was a good one to get us started.



Glory of the Erie Art Museum



The Erie Art Museum contains enough pieces of beautiful artwork to let visitors lose themselves for hours. When I visited last month, there were brightly colored paintings that provoked both thoughts and senses. Some held gorgeous scenery, or breathtaking sunsets, or peaceful waterfalls, and others offered touching imagery of affection. There were exquisite woodcarvings with ugly, nonhuman faces and semiprecious stones for eyes. And there were gracefully flowing glass vases that played with the light and cast it over the room in broken sparkles. But the most spectacular art piece to be seen there, I believe, would have to be the museum itself.

The museum was built in the 1830's in the Greek Revival style. Huge, granite columns at the top of white, marble stairs give the building the illusion of being the vast crown to a great mountain; even the somewhat larger buildings on either side of the museum do not damage the effect. The scale of the design gives a near-complete view of the building, from wherever on State Street the observer stands. That also makes the building seem much larger than it actually is.

Originally built as a bank, the Erie Art Museum is a grandiose reminder of an era when aesthetics mattered. It compares favorably with the Erie County Courthouse. The courthouse is a beautiful and ornate building, also designed in the Greek Revival style. It is even fancier, larger, and more impressive than the museum, but bears an essential flaw. It has been meddled with, modernized and changed. The very being of the old building has been tampered with. Two great wings of splendid Corinthian architecture flank a squat and ugly box. The very part of the courthouse that is the midpoint of the frontal view, has all the charm and beauty of a prison detention center. It boggles my mind that people could even think of putting so hideous an addition into such classic glory.
The architects gave the museum perfect symmetry, though, which has not been changed; every window, fireplace, door and column is mirrored. Even the two inch thick, iron studded vault door has its duplicate. The ceiling puts me in mind of an island; the brass colored center is a volcanic mountain, covered and growing with trees. Foaming waves run in lines from the island, spreading and growing, to eventually crash against the distant shores that are walls.
The large, marble fireplaces present a different vision. When I look at them my imagination takes me to a cold, winter day. In my vision I am not in a museum, but in a private home. A fire is roaring in the grate, though it does little to warm the drafty house. I stand in front of the flames, resplendent in a sharp, wool coat; the kind of coat with double rows of buttons, epaulettes and golden tracery. In my hands is a steaming mug of hot tea. A mug of tea may not seem to complete the image I am trying to portray, but it is actually the most important element; I would sooner go without the epaulettes than the tea. Despite the bizarreness of this image I find it heartwarming.
I love being in magnificent old buildings like the Erie Art Museum. They transport me through time, and make me feel as though I am part if something great and important. In these buildings I am a rich nobleman, or a British general recently returned form successful conquest in India (hence the epaulettes). I might be royalty, perhaps a troubled and tormented soul like Hamlet, or maybe even a king. These are some of the roles the Erie Art Museum lets me live.
It is not the architecture of the museum itself that I think is so great, it is what the architecture does to me. It does not take a great deal for my imagination to soar, it only needs the right stimulant. The Erie Art Museum is definitely the right stimulant, sparking off my mind and letting me fly. And so it is the greatest art piece to be found there.