Private Collections, Shopping, and Art
Yesterday was a day of unexpected opportunities. We started out the day with coffee and pastries and a trip to the Albright Institute. This was a little networking, a little advertising, and a whole lot of Really Old Journals. You see, being archaeologists means that the folks at the Albright have a hard time getting rid of things. We toured their library, where they have All the Issues of any number of journals, some of which were gifts from The Founder.
These Jarbuch des Kaiserlich Deutschen are over a HUNDRED YEARS old and they're out on the shelf.
When you have a whole lot of old journals like this, they take up a massive amount of space. Their entire contents in many cases are available on the Internet and continue to be available. They're old, they're fragile, and nobody wants them. But they're over a hundred years old, and some of them were gifts, and the Founder of the Institution was a book desecrator and may have written valuable insights in the margins. And these are archaeologists we're talking about.
Discussion is being had as to the fate of many volumes that have primarily sentimental value. After hearing the world "pulp" for the third time, I hid in the stacks until it went away, but in serious reality what do you do with a specialty journal that's much easier to access through JSTOR, in the basement of an institute the size of a very large house?
We also got to tour their archaeology lab, which is covered with shards of pottery, Pots In Progress, annotations, and boxes with labels like "This Needs Looked At". It takes a long time to put history together. I was quite proud of myself for being able to identify altars and jars on first sight, and felt sort of like a Super Spy for taking pictures of someone's research (I asked! It is okay!).
Imagine, for one horrible, gleeful moment, what happens if this table 'accidentally' falls over.
From the Albright Institute we headed up to the Rockefeller Museum, which is sort of an interesting structure retaining the near-total uselessness of its 1930's beginnings. It's got lots of stuff in it, all of which is identified by tiny numerical labels which allow you to look them up in the catalog at the front of the museum if you can remember all the numbers of what you thought were interesting and why.
This is very pretty glass juglet (do not confuse with juggalo) #1272. I have yet to find an online copy of the collection notes, so I don't know anything about its provenance. Bother.
However, the building is quite lovely. It is, in point of fact, a sort of museum of a museum. They have even preserved the bullet holes on the internal walls from the fighting during the Six Day War. There are beautiful glass tiles and bas-reliefs and a sunny courtyard and it's really quite lovely as a building.
Bullet holes, Authentic, circa June 1967. Notice they're in the ceiling because the windows are ten feet off the floor so you have to aim high. I am not sure what they were trying to hit.
Tile mosaic in courtyard alcove, with fountain, holy wow I could have stared at those flowers all day. Note lack of bullet holes.
After the Rockefeller, we headed into the Old City for shawarma and souvenir shopping, by way of the Damascus Gate.
Remember this gate. You will be seeing it later in this post.
This involved a trip into the shuq, or marketplace, which is a veritable festival of sights, smells, sounds, and vampire shopkeepers. Once I made eye contact with a blouse and a man appeared out of thin air to try and sell it to me. I have been instructed that I should not go into any shop without an intention to purchase, as when you cross the threshold you are in their territory and they will put their fangs into you at the slightest provocation.
Spices, with Dome of the Rock sculpture made of even more spices, because Someone has too much time on their hands.
An open area of the shuq. You get the feeling. Notice no shopkeepers are visible in either picture, because they do not show up on film. Really.
We got our souvenirs, and our shawarma, although who puts the ordering line for falafel at the bottom of a very long slope that people push heavy objects down? Nobody was injured by any of the runaway carts, due to a combination of shouting wheelbarrow boys, rubber-soled shoes on cobblestones, and quick reflexes by passers-by.
This is not my gelato because I ate mine too fast to remember photography. But half of it is the same flavor (lemon-mint), so it is a substitute gelato. I will never feel the same about ice cream.
Then we did some homey things and regrouped. Professor Jason apparently had made friends with Father Someone from the Pontifical Biblical Institute, which is a branch of the Pontifical Institute in Rome and has a private library and a little didactic museum with some extremely unusual finds, and had consequently wrangled an Invitation to Visit. We put on pants and skirts for this one, in order to be polite in case of Concerns About Modesty.
Yesterday, I learned way too much about politics and the history of Jerusalem, and I will refer you to Matt's blog for more discussion on this matter (see entry on the Immovable Ladder). We had a little lecture about the history of the Institute, and the tumultuous history of Jerusalem, because if there's one thing academics hate it's politics. Especially politics that prevent them from getting where they need to research. The Institute now has connections with several other institutions in the city, which allows everyone to learn from the most qualified professors, location be consarned.
But I also learned that there is a mummy in Jerusalem.
He was a young man. -- Healthy? -- Clearly not.
The Pontifical Institute also has an amazing collection of oil lamps. This may not sound particularly significant until you understand the evolution of oil lamps and their ability to help date your potsherds. They have All The Lamps, starting with the Calcolithic period and ending in the Islamic era, arranged by age.
Lamps! Many lamps! Cabinet 1 of 4 of lamps! Top shelf: pinch lamps, probably Calcolithic. After that, I just know the bottom shelf is "much newer" lamps. I Am Not An Archaeologist.
When we finally ran out of things to exclaim over, we broke for dinner (falafel and shawarma, who knew?) and then headed to the Old City to see the other two lines of Art. The blue line was somewhat of a disappointment, as one installation was broken. However, it was not a complete failure. It had a giant interactive installation made of incandescent light bulbs and illuminated by LED bulbs that you could turn on and off by pulling the chains.
"To make lightening" the sign said.
It had alleyways full of disco balls.
Oontz oontz oontz, etcetera
It had crocheted lamps making shadows on the walls.
I call this one "still life with crochet lamp and graffiti".
It had a projection of water with fish swimming in it and the shadows of tourists blocking the projector.
"Stay right there, Martha, there's a fish on your back"
It had a lot of shops, with shopkeepers who were just as vampiric but showed up on film. This may be the werewolf corner. I tried not to make eye contact with the merchandise, in case of being devoured.
On the left: probably a werewolf, or maybe just a guy with a shirt he wants to sell us right! now!
It had the Church of the Redeemer all dressed up for a night on the town.
The Lutherans' dignity, forever spoiled.
And it had some other arty/sculptural things, most of which we'd seen on the previous night's attempt to go backwards down the Blue Line. I did however like "Hatch".
LED light fixtures, Plexiglass cube, mirrors, something to make it shake a bit. Hours of fun!
And then we tried to go backwards on the White Line, so as to see the Elephants, but there was no going backwards, so we got lemonade with mint:
Quite possibly the best lemonade ever (note half of it is gone before pictures)
And then, sipping lemonade, we exited by the Zion Gate and took the Red Line past the singing flower up to the Joffa Gate, where we turned onto the Green Line. I cannot say enough about the Green Line, because there was music and movement and I really enjoyed the installations. We were concerned when the first one was a smaller version of the Jaffa gate tower:
This "evokes the architecture of distant and mysterious lands," like the one I am staying in.
But after that things got real. There was "Fishing for Light", which involved giant fishing rods holding test tubes full of colored lights, dancing to serious bass.
Still images cannot capture the surreality of this.
Then there was the one with the dancers. Women with light fans and people in lightsuits, dancing to Stravinsky and making poses like Michael Jackson. I wanted to stay forever.
Security makes a terrible backdrop.
 And last of all someone did an amazing Damascus Gate light show that we watched twice through. Words cannot convey the way eyes peering out of the gate walls make you feel.
Remember this gate? I told you you'd see it again. Holy wow.
Then we walked home and collapsed. It is 1.1 miles from the apartment to the Damascus Gate. We walk it at least twice a day. I am getting so much exercise. And then we got up today and had More Adventures, which I will post about later.
Picture links from Wednesday: Day and Night. May not be tidied up yet so prepare for duplicates. Also, like 80 images of the Damascus Gate. I will curate this eventually.
