Thanks to our local library, we checked out the Tacoma Museum of Glass today.
Let me paint a picture of what it would be like for a ‘normal’ family to visit.
A tiny museum marked by a gigantic silver cone containing the hot shop. Clear glass floral fountains line the entrance. Sailboat packed docks float just beyond.
The aroma of the kiln and ash is overpowering as you turn the corner. Cherry red stadium seats and a huge screen TV welcome visitors. All the work is done on a cement floor several feet below the lowest seat. A circular walk allows for views from all angles.
Vaguely scruffy looking artisans craft molten lava into glowing art. A camera-woman hovers and transmits up-close views to the seated public. Another is narrating the artists actions and taking questions as the glassblowers methodically force their glowing spheres into the kiln, shape by hand, and repeat.
The adjacent galleries hold collection of glass landscapes, punctuation, and tiny nature scenes rooted in odd human forms. No photography was allowed in the rest of the museum (not that there was much else to see).
That’s what could have happened. But how about this?
“I wanna go in here!” says the lad as he careens into an on-looker.
“I don’t want to sit there! Lets sit over here!”…”I can’t see!”
“Oh. I need to go to the bathroom.”
“It stinks in here.”
“Look! I’m ninja!”
“Can I hang my feet off the edge?”…”WHY not?!”
“Can we go home now?”
The moment we get into the car…”Why did we leave?! I wanna go back!!”
No wonder I’m a homebody. LOL