In case I didn't mention it, Calgary goes a wee bit cowboy crazy during July, thanks to the Stampede. Have I mentioned the hats? Millions of gallons worth of hats...anyway, even the most starched and staid institutions turn a bit denim during this time, and the Glenbow is no different. So for our Saturday Cultural Outing, Collin and I hopped on a train and headed downtown to see the last weekend of their western exhibits.
The Glenbow Museum was one of Calgary's first museums, and has an eclectic collection of objects, based largely on the whims of its first patron. Modern art (which bizarrely gave me a pang of homesickness - Canadian artists don't have much call to use warm colors in their work - impressionistic landscapes were all shades of muddy brown, green, gray, and blue.), Asian and African antiques, and a massive collection of weaponry, both ancient and not. There is also a sizable portion of the museum dedicated to the First Nations people of Canada, and a section called "Mavericks". Fortunately, there wasn't a trace of John McCain or Sarah Palin. Many of these historic figures were genuine lunatics - climbing down oil wells?! and marvelously colorful. One of my favorites was Bob Edwards, editor of the Calgary Eye-Opener, a pointedly sarcastic paper of weekly events. He'd go on week-long benders every once in a while, which made the regularity of a weekly paper sometimes...not.
The main attraction was the featured exhibit, an assortment of paintings by Charlie Russell, the Cowboy Painter. I was pretty excited to see it, in the way I always am when I recognize the name of an artist. That, and I actually do enjoy his work. What I discovered though was that I enjoy his work most when in contrast to others artists. Going into an entire exhibit of his work was a little overwhelming, where I left with the impression of, "Yep, those sure were horses!"
We spent several hours in the Museum, and then emerged in the pedestrian area of 8th Street for lunch. Unfortunately, this part of town is surrounded by expensive hotels and the Calgary Convention Center, so our food options were limited to pub, pub, pub, pub or pub. Collin and his Hitchhiker's Guide thought we might find a non-pub a few streets over...but no luck. We wandered aimlessly until it began to rain, and then we wandered aimlessly and damply.
But then...there! From under a dingy pedestrian walkway, the fluorescent lights of commerce shone brightly. Teenagers dressed like Jersey Shore extras passed through automatic doors. "A mall!"
"What?" Collin may have said. I'm not sure because I was busy being pulled towards the entrance like a moth to a bug zapper.
I'm used to the sprawling monoliths of America where a mall is an island isolated from the rest of a town by approximately 50 square miles of parking lot. This looked like the planners just had some J Crew store they needed to squeeze in somewhere.
But it was SO CLEAN! All glass and chrome and tile - it was nearly blinding. I wanted to take pictures. It was gorgeous. Even more gorgeous was the food court, with it's terrible Chinese food, which Collin and I gobbled down and instantly regretted.
About the time I started shoving the last half of my noodles around on my plate, I realized that my rapture at discovering such a place was almost certainly fueled by starvation. Now that I realized I wasn't going to die, I also realized I was voluntarily sitting in a mall on a Saturday afternoon. We decided to flee the food court, and ended up suddenly in a Provincial Park.
What?
It was the Devonian Gardens! I'd seen signs for it all over town, but had never been able to find it. Mainly because it had never occurred to me to look for it in the top floor of a mall, next to the food court. But sure enough, there it was - thousands of ferns and succulents, arranged symmetrically around reflecting pools and koi ponds. With the backdrop of the towering, cathedral-like glass ceiling, it really was quite gorgeous. I don't know whose idea it was to install the park in a mall, but it was a clever move. I instantly wanted to trip rude teenagers 25% less than I had moments before.
So I guess the lesson is that in Calgary, beauty can be found in some very surprising places. Also, don't eat the Chinese food in the CORE food court.
The Glenbow Museum was one of Calgary's first museums, and has an eclectic collection of objects, based largely on the whims of its first patron. Modern art (which bizarrely gave me a pang of homesickness - Canadian artists don't have much call to use warm colors in their work - impressionistic landscapes were all shades of muddy brown, green, gray, and blue.), Asian and African antiques, and a massive collection of weaponry, both ancient and not. There is also a sizable portion of the museum dedicated to the First Nations people of Canada, and a section called "Mavericks". Fortunately, there wasn't a trace of John McCain or Sarah Palin. Many of these historic figures were genuine lunatics - climbing down oil wells?! and marvelously colorful. One of my favorites was Bob Edwards, editor of the Calgary Eye-Opener, a pointedly sarcastic paper of weekly events. He'd go on week-long benders every once in a while, which made the regularity of a weekly paper sometimes...not.
The main attraction was the featured exhibit, an assortment of paintings by Charlie Russell, the Cowboy Painter. I was pretty excited to see it, in the way I always am when I recognize the name of an artist. That, and I actually do enjoy his work. What I discovered though was that I enjoy his work most when in contrast to others artists. Going into an entire exhibit of his work was a little overwhelming, where I left with the impression of, "Yep, those sure were horses!"
We spent several hours in the Museum, and then emerged in the pedestrian area of 8th Street for lunch. Unfortunately, this part of town is surrounded by expensive hotels and the Calgary Convention Center, so our food options were limited to pub, pub, pub, pub or pub. Collin and his Hitchhiker's Guide thought we might find a non-pub a few streets over...but no luck. We wandered aimlessly until it began to rain, and then we wandered aimlessly and damply.
But then...there! From under a dingy pedestrian walkway, the fluorescent lights of commerce shone brightly. Teenagers dressed like Jersey Shore extras passed through automatic doors. "A mall!"
"What?" Collin may have said. I'm not sure because I was busy being pulled towards the entrance like a moth to a bug zapper.
I'm used to the sprawling monoliths of America where a mall is an island isolated from the rest of a town by approximately 50 square miles of parking lot. This looked like the planners just had some J Crew store they needed to squeeze in somewhere.
But it was SO CLEAN! All glass and chrome and tile - it was nearly blinding. I wanted to take pictures. It was gorgeous. Even more gorgeous was the food court, with it's terrible Chinese food, which Collin and I gobbled down and instantly regretted.
About the time I started shoving the last half of my noodles around on my plate, I realized that my rapture at discovering such a place was almost certainly fueled by starvation. Now that I realized I wasn't going to die, I also realized I was voluntarily sitting in a mall on a Saturday afternoon. We decided to flee the food court, and ended up suddenly in a Provincial Park.
What?
It was the Devonian Gardens! I'd seen signs for it all over town, but had never been able to find it. Mainly because it had never occurred to me to look for it in the top floor of a mall, next to the food court. But sure enough, there it was - thousands of ferns and succulents, arranged symmetrically around reflecting pools and koi ponds. With the backdrop of the towering, cathedral-like glass ceiling, it really was quite gorgeous. I don't know whose idea it was to install the park in a mall, but it was a clever move. I instantly wanted to trip rude teenagers 25% less than I had moments before.
So I guess the lesson is that in Calgary, beauty can be found in some very surprising places. Also, don't eat the Chinese food in the CORE food court.
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