Indianapolis Museum of Art Blog

Rules. Everybody’s got ‘em, from Mom’s house to the big house. The Golden Rule, the infield fly rule, and the Rule of Thirds. Robert’s Rules of Order, rules of engagement, and the Rule of Law. Look both ways before crossing the street, keep your elbows off the dinner table, no playing ball in the house.

The IMA is no different. The museum’s “gallery rules” are rules for proper behavior around the artwork so that the collection is maintained in the best possible condition for generations to come. Most of the rules are common sense, if you stop and think about it. I mean, if Mom won’t let anyone eat pizza on her new sofa, do you think we want anyone near the Monet with a Double Decaf and a sticky bun? Think again, buck-o.

No touching is the Numero Uno rule we have. We humans are such tactile animals that we want to touch everything, from the shiny surface of Donald Judd’s Untitled, 1967 to the rough surface of Robert Indiana’s LOVE sculpture.

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As a riveting segment this summer, the IMA Blog will be featuring a Tuesday Photo of the Week, highlighting juicy tidbits of info including works of art, artists, news, events, or locations.

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It seemed like a good idea at the time. When I was first approached about being one of four contributing writers to a history of the first 125 years of the Indianapolis Museum of Art, I didn’t hesitate to sign on. After all, I’d already been one of three co-authors of The Herron Chronicle, a history of the Herron School of Art (released in 2002), and the author of For the Sake of Art, a history of the Indianapolis Art Center (released in 1999). And before resigning in April 2007, I had spent 10 years as the visual arts writer for The Indianapolis Star—covering the IMA had been one of my primary responsibilities.

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…Perennial Treasures from the Gardens of the Indianapolis Museum of Art.

Picture this. Ancient Egypt. Cleopatra’s palace gardens.

“Mark Antony, did you tell the slaves to weed the iris bed?”

“No dear. I thought you were doing that with the gardener.”

“Really Mark Antony, you do amaze me. Do you not remember I had the gardener executed last month for using up all of my eye liner? If you didn’t tell the slaves to weed then what happened to my special iris?”

“What do you mean Cleopatra?”

“I mean my Siberian irises are gone.”

“Which ones were they?”

“You know fully well which ones they were. My Iris sibirica ‘Caesar’s Brother’. Your petty jealous heart just couldn’t bear I would be taking them with me when I die.”

“Alright Cleopatra! Alright. It’s true. I ripped them from the ground. Just like I have tried to rip that Caesar from your heart.”

“Nice try Mark Antony. But like my love for Caesar, the iris cannot be killed by a mere human. Both will be with me in the great beyond.”

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A recent article on Cosmos online proclaimed that “developments in a number of scientific disciplines suggest that we may soon be able to increase life expectancies from the 70-to 80-year range already seen in the richest countries to well over 100 and, perhaps, to over 1,000. We shall, in one sense, have made ourselves immortal.”

Good news, right? Until the day when scientific advancements make living forever possible, everyday blogger-types like myself can pursue other life-extending options gleaned from those who do it best. Read the rest of this entry »