My darling grandson, the poster child for perpetual motion machines, is oh so 5. He has been acting up a little because of a change of locale from SC to NM and because he now lives with 2 seasoned folks, a huge slobering beast St. Bernard, ornery orange manx as well as his Mom, Sis & dog. He is adjusting fairly well, or at least he was until yesterday. His comfort level is challenged alot each day and yesterday was too much for him.
We went to the Albuquerque Museum. I know he was confused at first in his expectations. He thought we were going to see the "dinosaur bones" museum, which the little smartee remembered is across the street from the AM. Anyway, he loves the sound of large areas, likes the way they echo his fake high screetch whistle and this museum has a great reception hall for that effect. He also loves the sound of water and there is the neatest kinetic water sculpture just outside on the lawn of the museum. He and his Sis skirted the "cement" pond and headed to the "head waters" part of the sculpture. Sis stepped in a hole in the grass full of mucky disgusting water. I thought I was going to lose him right there. This small occurance really threw him for a loop. I could see the disorientation come across his sweet face and honestly I didn't see him return to his comfortable self until this morning. I told Sweet Man that for the rest of the time at the museum, Ry was like a rat in a maze, trying to get out.
We adults lose track of our instincts of survival and all the other really important stuff we come to this orb with when we are born. The closer we are to that time the more the knowledge. I saw my darling boy revert to a safe place guarded by anger and confusion and I am concerned.
The only rules I had for him and Sis while in the museum was "no touching", "no running" and "to find some piece of art that makes you happy". We went into every salon. We saw NM artist paintings, Albuquerque's history through artifacts from Native American to Technology, a geography experiment in visual art and photos including the star project close to some land we own in northern NM and the reception hall with the memorial wall of Albuquerque residents who have passed away this year, including Tony Hillerman who was a neighbor to our last home.
The only thing that appealed to him was the northern New Mexican santo art. That is so right on because the same thing was true for his Sis and for me. Great humor, pathos, colors, expression in wood and culture. If you are not acquainted with this art form, much of the art is religious in nature, Catholic in culture and can be quite graphic. One such piece was a display of Jesus, crucified but lying in a glass casket with handles to be carried in a procession. Ry looked inside of the casket which showed the body of Christ, mutilated by his tortures, bloody knees, wound on side, tears streaming from his open eyes, holes in his hands and feet, blood dripping from so many other places. Ry said "poor guy, he needs some band aids and look at his rash." INeither he nor his Sis had ever see a crucifix with such gorey detail. Her words were "that art is real brutal". Other pieces were colorful, whimsical, funny and we talked about all of the art as we went on our adventure.
In his report to his Mom about our adventure he did not even mention any of the above.
This morning, he wanted to know if he, Sis and I could make some happy sculptures. His is made from my recycle stash, and is named Jack the spaceman. Hers is Corn Maiden woman from Zuni. Hey, I guess the only one who was affected by yesterday in a negative way was me. I had bad dreams about wood carvings with dirty knees and when I woke up I was sorta disoriented. Shows what I know.