Chihuly

Between the lone SAA session of the day and the conference reception in the evening, I went to the de Young Museum in Golden Gate Park with a colleague and one of her friends from graduate school.

The star attraction was an exhibit of the work of Dale Chihuly. He has no shortage of detractors, but I love art glass, and Chihuly is the best glass artist around today.

I was pleasantly surprised that the de Young allowed (non-flash) photography in the exhibit, and I took full advantage of this policy.

The first room in the exhibit is devoted to "Persians"--odd-shaped pieces that call to mind the ancient glass found at archaeological sites around the Mediterranean.

Also on display: a couple of wooden boats filled with glass pieces, this one inspired by the artist's travels in Japan.

My favorite part of the exhibit was the "Persian Ceiling"--a room in which all kinds of Persian forms (plus the odd cherub or two) were placed upon a suspended glass ceiling and lit from above.

It was pure joy. Judging from the amount of time that other attendees spent in this part of the exhibit, lots of people felt the same way.

I was also to see the de Young's permanent exhibits of 19th century American decorative art and painting and its extensive exhibit of art from New Guinea, which was exhilarating.

SAA: LAGAR meeting

Today was a work day. I spent the morning doing some stuff that I didn't have the chance to finish before leaving for San Francisco and the afternoon helping to run the annual meeting of the Lesbian and Gay Archives Roundtable (LAGAR) of the Society of American Archivists (SAA).

As usual, we met away from the conference hotel and at a local LGBT Archives. The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Historical Society, which is located a few blocks away from the conference hotel, was an incredibly gracious host, and we all appreciated being able to see its exhibits on the Folsom Street Fair and GLBT people who served in the military from World War II to the Iraq War.

The meeting followed its usual format, which meant that we had a little time to socialize, then introduced ourselves, and got down to the business of electing a new male co-chair. Congrats go to (newlywed!) Jim Cartwright, who was just elected, and profound thanks go to Steve Novak, who just stepped down.

We then listened to reports concerning LAGAR's newsletter, Web site, online manual for community-based archivists who lack library/archives/information science backgrounds and revised our bylaws so that they conform to recent changes in SAA regulations concerning roundtable leadership; SAA now mandates that roundtable chairs serve no more than two consecutive years.

In addition, we got an update from Ben Primer, who just finished his term as SAA Council liaison and let us know that Council is planning on phasing out every roundtable that has less than fifty official members (i.e., dues-paying SAA members who indicate on their membership renewal forms that wish to be a member of the roundtable). To make matters worse, SAA now allows each member to join only two roundtables; at one point, one could join as many roundtables as one wanted.

LAGAR currently has fewer than fifty official members, but our bylaws allow non-SAA members to join our roundtable: we try very hard to bridge the gap between archivists who have academic credentials and professional positions and the community-based practitioners who began preserving LGBT archival materials long before research repositories took an interest in LGBT history. We also have some SAA dues-paying members who haven't indicated on their renewal forms that they wish to be official LAGAR members.

What a mess. I understand that roundtables consume a certain amount of SAA's resources and that there are a few roundtables that are not particularly well-run, but this policy is a disaster in the making. SAA has gotten so big during the past few years, and it's hard for newbies to get to know one another. Roundtables, which tend to be small, allow people to get to know one another and to take on their first SAA leadership roles.

Moreover, SAA is currently trying to promote diversity within the profession. Its new roundtable policy, which will likely have a negative impact not only upon LAGAR but also upon the Archivists and Archives of Color Roundtable, the Latin American and Caribbean Cultural Heritage Roundtable, and other roundtables that seek to make this profession more inclusive, isn't going to do much to make SAA more diverse.

No one at the meeting was happy about this new policy. In the coming weeks, LAGAR's Steering Committee is going to have to figure out how to respond to Council's directive. We discussed a few ideas at the meeting, but we need to flesh them out.

LAGAR was founded in 1988, and in honor of our anniversary, we then moved on to an informal panel discussion on LGBT archives. Ron Grantz of the Lavender Library, Archives and Cultural Exchange of Sacramento, Karen Sundheim of the San Francisco Public Library's Hormel Gay and Lesbian Center, and Greg Williams of the ONE National Gay and Lesbian Archives talked about their repositories' history and holdings.

I wish we had had more time (I always wish that), but I'm glad for the time that we did have. Everyone had lots of great stories about their holdings (Ron Grantz's story about the papers of Jerry Sloan, a gay ex-minister who won a legal battle against Jerry Falwell, was particularly delightful), and it's apparent, at least to me, that those of us seeking to document LGBT history face some challenges that didn't exist twenty years ago:

• As Greg Williams so aptly put it, a lot of community-based LGBT archives (i.e., archives that were started by LGBT activists and are not affiliated with academic institutions or other research entities) have gotten too big to manage properly or to die a peaceful death. What's going to happen to these archives when the current generation of community-based archivists passes from the scene? Will they simply be absorbed by research institutions? If so, what will it mean for LGBT people?
• Staffing, funding, and space are real concerns for everyone. However, as Steve Novak noted, these are concerns that all kinds of community-based archives (i.e., local historical societies) face. The fact that we've encountered them is in some ways a sign that we've joined the archival mainstream.
• Lots of people at the meeting expressed a need for a national network of LGBT archives and archivists. LAGAR has a guide to repositories holding LGBT materials on its Web site and encourages non-SAA members to join, but it's plain that the need is greater. Just how much LAGAR, an all-volunteer organization, can do to build such a network isn't clear, but the Steering Committee needs to do some brainstorming.

Thanks to Ron, Karen, and Greg for being such great panelists!

Pier 39

Pier 39, "San Francisco's premier Bay attraction," is a "festival marketplace" featuring over a hundred stores, a dozen restaurants, and "a variety of fun-filled attractions." In other words, it's the mother of all tourist traps.

The Aquarium of the Bay is at Pier 39, and the Blue and Gold Fleet docks there, so I've spent a little time there. It's appalling and fascinating all at the same time: the crass commercialism, the schlock, the crowds. Despite being a bit repelled by it, I ended up buying a few gifts and a few things for myself while there.

I also walked out to the end of the pier, which offers some pleasing sights.

In 1990, a group of sea lions colonized the docks at the end of Pier 39. They were such a tourist draw that they were allowed to stay. Now, hundreds of these noisy, playful, and . . . fragrant creatures call Pier 39 home. You can hear their barking all along the Western side of the pier.

The sea lions are still a huge tourist draw, as evidenced by the throngs that gather at the end of the pier and the viewing gallery that has been built there. The Marine Mammal Center, a non-profit rescue and research organization serving Northern California, monitors the sea lions at Pier 39 and treats sick or injured animals. Panels adjacent to the gallery outline the organization's work and the natural and human threats that sea lions and other marine mammals face.


In the early evening, gulls, cormorants, and pelicans perch on the cement breakwater at the end of the pier. I had never seen a pelican prior to coming to San Francisco, and now I've seen dozens of them in flight and at rest.

Golden Gate

Playing blog catch-up on a Wednesday night . . . .

After I finished walking the Castro yesterday afternoon, I took the streetcar back to Pier 39 and got on an hour-long Blue and Gold Fleet cruise around the Bay.

This cruise exists for one reason: to allow people to see Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge. I had initially planned to walk over the bridge, but I've been doing a lot of walking over the past few days, a Blue and Gold Fleet voucher is included in the CityPass, and I was able to get a ticket for the 5:35 PM cruise.

The start of the cruise was not promising: instead of having the captain or another crew member narrate the tour, the Blue and Gold Fleet uses a recording of "Captain Nemo" (yes, that Captain Nemo) and "friends" (i.e., various famous and obscure San Franciscans) relating stories about San Francisco and the Bay. It's obviously pitched toward kids, but to adult ears it's hopelessly contrived. Blue and Gold could learn a few lessons from the National Park Service.

The boat ride itself, however, is quite pleasant. I won't post any more pictures of the San Francisco skyline or Alcatraz, but the cruise affords excellent views of both.


A Western Gull taking advantage of our air currents coasted with us most of the way to the bridge.


As is often the case at this time of year, the bridge was enveloped in a light, low fog. In fact, the bridge is painted orange because orange is relatively easy to see in foggy conditions.

I was one of the last people to get on the boat, and I didn't get a good seat. As a result, I couldn't take an iconic picture of the bridge (i.e., one in which both pillars are visible). I had to settle for taking pictures of the San Francisco side . . .

. . . and of the Marin County side. However, viewing the bridge from a boat does enable one to see its underside, which isn't otherwise visible. It also gives one a sense of just how cold and furious the currents at the mouth of San Francisco Bay can be. We were out on a calm day, and the water got choppy and the spray got chilly as we approached the bridge.

The narrative provided by Captain Nemo and friends improved as the tour progressed, although it never approached the quality of the Alcatraz tour. Maybe it's just the old labor historian in me, but I was genuinely moved by the section, allegedly narrated by a construction worker who helped to build the bridge, discussing the builders' genuine efforts to ensure worker safety and the horrific accident that claimed the lives of eleven men. The portion of the tour dealing with the discrimination experienced by San Francisco's Chinese and Chinese-American residents was concise and easy for everyone, including older children, to understand.

Captain Nemo ended the tour by pointing out that the Golden Gate Bridge has achieved iconic status, while the other big bridge in San Francisco Bay--the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge--has never attained such popularity despite being substantially longer than the Golden Gate. I think it's because the Bay Bridge (which is actually a trio of bridges and a tunnel) is painted a workaday gray. Despite being having the same graceful curves as the Golden Gate, it tends to blend into the water and the sky. Owing to its size, it's also difficult to photograph; I took the picture above while en route to Alcatraz the day before, and it's the best of a bad bunch.

The Golden Gate is truly lovely, but I find being in its presence a bit unsettling. The railing on the bridge's pedestrian walkway is low, and the walkway itself directly overhangs the water. As a result, the bridge is a suicide magnet: people have come to San Francisco from across the country, and even from other parts of the world, in order to end their lives in the cold waters of San Francisco Bay . . . or on the rocky headlands underneath portions of the bridge. The Golden Gate Bridge, Highway and Transportation District has responded by installing cameras and having first responders patrol frequently and are exploring the possibility of building some sort of physical barrier, but there is a notable lack of public support for the idea.

The whole time I was on the boat, I kept hoping that everyone on the bridge was simply enjoying the view and the fine summer weather.

'Nuff said

Storefront window on Valencia Street, San Francisco, August 26, 2008.

Boystown

I went from the cool, amber-toned hush of Mission Dolores to the color and noise of the Castro. It was quieter than I expected; however, I was there at 1:00PM on a Tuesday.

I've heard complaints that lesbians are few and far between in the Castro, and I was decidedly in the minority. However, I saw a fair number of paired-off women . . . and a surprising number of straight couples, who are apparently moving into the area.

The Castro Theatre, which is currently having a Little Mermaid sing-a-long, is a wonderful Art Deco movie palace; I seriously considered buying a ticket just so I could check out the interior.

Harvey Milk, California's first openly gay politician, ran a camera store at 575 Castro; a home design store now occupies the retail space. A tiny commemorative plaque is embedded in the sidewalk of the front of the building.

Twin Peaks is the oldest gay bar on the Castro. Note the large windows: Twin Peaks unshielded its windows in 1972, thus making the statement that gay people in the Castro didn't have anything to hide. Many gay bars across the nation (including one of the most popular bars in my city) have since followed its lead.

Had I been thinking, I definitely would have arranged to go on the Crusin' the Castro walking tour of the neighborhood. Perhaps Saturday . . . .

Harvey Milk's papers--and lots of other archival materials documenting the history of LGBT San Franciscans--are held by the San Francisco Public Library. Milk was a 1951 graduate of what is now called the University at Albany, SUNY, and people interested in learning about Milk's college years may also wish to examine the columns he wrote for the Albany Student Press columns. The M.E. Grenander Department of Special Collections and Archives has a complete run.

Mission Dolores

This morning, I took the streetcar to Church Street and walked to the Mision San Francisco de Asis, commonly known as Mission Dolores. The Mission was built in 1791 by Franciscan monks seeking to bring the word of Christ to the native peoples who lived in what is now San Francisco. Its adobe walls, which are over four feet thick, survived the 1906 earthquake.


The interior of the Mission has an incredible Baroque altar. The patterned ceiling was designed and painted by Native Americans who converted to Christianity.

A small spiral staircase stands at the back of the church. The wood is obviously hand-hewn.

Mission Dolores was one of the San Francisco locations featured in Vertigo. However, a tour guide told me that Hitchcock shot footage at Mission Dolores and at another mission and then combined the two; for example, the film depicts Kim Novak entering the church and then exiting right to go to the adjacent cemetery, but the cemetery at Mission Dolores sits to the left of the Mission itself.

Given the place's history and function and the hush that pervades the place, I was at first a bit hesitant to ask questions about Vertigo; however, I eventually decided that if it was okay to film Vertigo at the Mission, it was certainly okay to ask questions about the filming.

Aquarium of the Bay

After I got back from Alcatraz yesterday evening, I went to the Aquarium of the Bay, which is a short walk away from the Alcatraz Cruises dock and stays open relatively late during the summertime. I love aquariums (and regret that my schedule won't accommodate a visit to the superb Monterrey Bay Aquarium), and I had another incentive to go: I purchased a San Francisco CityPass, which bundles together a seven-day public transit permit and admission to the Museum of Modern Art, the deYoung Museum, the Legion of Honor, the Aquarium of the Bay, and other attractions for a flat fee. Definitely a good option for the museum devotee.

The Aquarium of the Bay is located at tourist-trappy Pier 39. Its a small facility devoted to the study and conservation of the San Francisco Bay.

Visitors first view a number of small tanks highlighting the ecosystems that exist within the Bay.They then move through two clear tunnel tanks, one of which houses creatures that live in the shallows of the Bay . . .

. . . such as these anchovies, schools of which pass with stunning speed and change direction in the blink of an eye . . .

. . . and star- and rockfish.

After passing through the first tank, visitors see a few small tanks housing other Bay inhabitants, such as these moon jellies. Then they proceed to the other tank, which contains the animals that live in the deeper waters . . .

. . . such as sharks . . .

and sturgeon.



A few small touch tanks allow visitors to touch starfish, leopard sharks, and rays.

The Aquarium of the Bay is a lovely facility, and the staff are knowledgeable and helpful. However, given that it takes about 45-60 minutes to go through the exhibits at a leisurely pace, the admission fee ($14.95 for adults, $8.00 for seniors and children aged 3-11, $37.95 for a family ticket) seems a bit steep. Given that it's a non-profit with a worthy mission, perhaps the fee is understandable. However, part of me suspects that the fee is high because Pier 39 is touristy and pricey (and a lot of the tourists at Pier 39 these days are getting such good exchange rates for their Euros that the price is still reasonable). For CityPass holders, however, the Aquarium of the Bay is a pleasing and informative break from the hubub and relentless commerce of Pier 39.

The Rock

Yesterday afternoon, I did the touristy thing and took a tour of Alcatraz. The worst part of the trip was waiting for it to begin: The Rock is a big draw for sightseers, and we were hemmed in by Tensabarriers until each group was photographed in front of a mock backdrop of the island and then herded onto the boat. Having dealt with madding hordes at the Frida Kahlo exhibit, I felt my patience wearing thin.

Once we were on the boat, however, things changed. Although there was some low-lying fog on the water, the day was sunny and warm.

The view of San Francisco from the water was stunning (bit of a cheat: this photo and the one that appears at the very start of this post were taken as we were coming back from the island).

In the late 1960’s, a group of Native American activists took over the island, which was unoccupied after the federal prison it housed was closed in 1963, and declared it “Indian land.” The island still bears evidence of this event, which galvanized a generation of Native American activists.

I was initially disappointed by The Rock: the elements are not kind to the place, and although the National Park Service is actively fixing up the place, parts of the island were off-limits to visitors for various reasons. However, as I got away from the crowd and got into exploring The Rock, my mood lifted.

At present, no human lives on the island, but thousands of birds call it home.

Part of the island is currently closed to allow Western gulls to nest and raise their young without human interference. However, the gulls, which mate for life and live to be 15 years old, don't seem to mind the visitors: some of them nest just a few feet away from the footpaths. The gull on the left is a youngster starting to get its adult plumage.

The island is also home to a large colony of double-breasted cormorants.

I almost didn’t take the tour of the cellhouse (seen here from the recreation yard). Instead of having rangers lead the tours, the National Park Service has placed a self-paced audio tour onto portable playback devices that are loaned to visitors. People who take the tour listen to the narrative on headphones as they make their way through the cellhouse.

I didn’t take the audio tour offered at the Frida Kahlo exhibit, and I was really kind of annoyed at some of the people who did: enveloped in their audio cocoons, they bumped into others, clustered around paintings, and generally made it difficult for others to enjoy the exhibit. However, after a few minutes’ cranky deliberation, I decided to give the Alcatraz audio tour a shot. I’m incredibly glad I did.

The tour was narrated by a former Alcatraz guard and included excerpts of oral history interviews of former guards and former prisoners, and it was superb. The narrative was compelling yet easy to follow, the memories of guards and prisoners were skillfully woven into it, and the directions for moving through the cellhouse were crystal-clear. The sound effects that at times supplemented the narrative were evocative and used with restraint; they were never hokey or jarring.

Although I noticed (and at times was guilty of) some cocooning-related problems, the site was large enough to allow us to spread out (which was not the case in the Kahlo exhibit), and each of us had the option of pausing the audio tour and exploring on our own. As a result, I was able to keep away from the crowds most of the time.

Harsh as the place is, I kept finding unexpected flashes of beauty, such as this view from a dining hall window.

Go to Alcatraz if you can. Despite the hassle and the crowds, it's worth it.

The National Archives-Pacific Region, which is in San Francisco, holds holds Alcatraz inmate case files, prisoner identification photographs, and warden's notebook pages for most prisoners and has an online index of prisoners.

Fridamania!

Sorry about the lack of posts yesterday. My hotel's WiFi network was down.

Yesterday morning, I went to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art morning to check out the Frida Kahlo and Lee Miller exhibits. Photography isn't permitted in these exhibits, so I'm not posting photos here.

The Kahlo exhibit was revelatory. Kahlo has become extremely trendy, as evidenced by the Frida-themed aprons, etc., on sale in the SFMoMA gift shop and the teeming mass of people who wanted to see this exhibit. I haven't embraced the trend, which seems more rooted more in her biography (tortured relationship with her artist husband, affairs with men and women, leftist politics, disregard for conventional notions of femininity)--than in her art. The art, however, is much more complex and satisfying. I hadn't recognized how inventively she used and reworked Mexican folk idioms or how those stern self-portraits are sometimes slyly witty as well.

I also hadn't appreciated how groundbreaking some of her art was. Henry Ford Hospital (1932) may well be the first painting in the Western tradition that visually documents the grief, isolation, and pain that accompanies a miscarriage, and it is wrenching.

The Miller exhibit, which drew me to SFMoMA in the first place, was also first-rate. Miller started out as a fashion model, apprenticed under Man Ray, and began creating her own surrealist-influenced photographs. She became a very successful commercial photographer in New York, but relocated to London when she married her second husband. During the Second World War she worked for British Vogue and became one of the few female photographers to be credentialed as a war correspondent. Her photographs of London and Paris under bombardment, Dachau immediately after liberation, and Allied troops' entry into Hitler's headquarters appeared in Vogue . . . along with her updates on fashion trends in newly free Paris.

After the war, Miller gradually retreated from professional photography and devoted herself to running her husband's estate, gourmet cooking, and, sadly, alcohol. Her son, who was born after the war, discovered that his mother had been a noteworthy photographer when he was sorting through her effects after her death. He is now the head of the Lee Miller Archive, which cares for her photographs and manuscript materials.

Ocean Beach

After I took a few minutes to stow my stuff in the hotel room, San Francisco sightseeing commenced: I took a Muni bus to Ocean Beach. I've never seen the Pacific, and today seemed like a good opportunity to do so. Although the bus ride was looong, it was fascinating: we went through the city's Richmond neighborhood, which is home to a large and vibrant Russian community.

Ocean Beach is part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area. In keeping with National Park Service rules, I took only photographs and left only footprints.

The bus dropped me off right next to the beach, and within a few minutes I could see Seal Rocks.

I was warned that San Francisco can be quite foggy at this time of year. Although downtown was the epitome of balmy, there was a bit of fog hovering just above the water at Ocean Beach. The sun was going down, which made the haze all the more apparent.

I didn't see any seals, but I did see lots of gulls. I also saw a couple of pelicans off in the distance.

Incidentally, all of the beach photos were taken using my camera's zoom. The tide was rising rapidly, and I wanted to stay well away from it. The big waves that make Ocean Beach popular with surfers (a few of whom were out) pose a real threat to the casual swimmer or wader. Owing to the nature of the undersea terrain, the currents are strong and, at least to someone unfamiliar with the area, completely unpredictable. They also keep the water extremely cold: water from the depths is consistently thrown against the shore, and warm water is pulled out to sea. The breeze coming off the water was surprisingly chilly.

I then spent a few minutes climbing up the steep hill to Sutro Heights Park, which overlooks Ocean Beach and the Great Highway (a snippet of which appears, lower left, in the photo above). Unfortunately, owing to the setting of the sun, my photos don't do the setting justice.

I had better luck capturing the Bird of Paradise that was growing next to the footpath . . . .

. . . and a model-for-a-bonsai-tree growing on the cliff overlooking the beach.

I left the park just in time to catch a bus back to the hotel--with a detour to Trader Joe's for provisions.

Later today (this blog post is going up in the wee hours of the 25th): SF MoMA and Alcatraz.

ALB-ORD-SFO

After months of anticipation, I left for San Francisco this morning. No flight or luggage snafus, but the flight from ALB to ORD was torture: the fellow who sat to my right spent the entire flight flirting obnoxiously with the young woman sitting to his right (He predicted the crash of the tech bubble! He speaks at investment seminars! He's appeared on the Canadian equivalent of CNBC several times!) Ugh.

The flight from ORD to SFO was a lot better, even though I sat in front of a couple of toddlers who were not happy about being trapped in a metal tube for hours. Their father apologized for the commotion, and I told him about my morning and said that I would much rather listen to his kids than to an on-the-make investment guru. He cracked up and said that he blogged about stuff like that. I told him that the thought had certainly crossed my mind . . . .

Landed at SFO this afternoon, took BART into the city, walked through tourist hell (aka the intersection of Powell and Market), and made it to my hotel. The accommodations aren't deluxe( kind of like a cross between a dorm room and a spartan studio apartment--which is not surprising given that it was at one point a single-room occupancy apartment building) but it meets my needs and my budget. It's actually kind of quaint in a European sort of way. (It's also populated in a European sort of way: the night manager, who checked me in, told me that I'm the only American here at the moment and that all of the other guests are taking advantage of the Euro's buying power here in the States.)

At some point, my room had a Murphy bed . . . .