So everyone knows art and museums are, like, my life, right? I have a special relationship with them, as they've taught me a lot about myself and about the world. I've given a third of my 30-year-old life to pursuing a museum career, and have given of myself in the form of visiting, learning, and supporting art and museums since the time my parents introduced us to each other. They have given quite a bit back to me, too, but I’m still waiting for the biggest gift of all—a full-time collections management position. My job searching process has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and there are days that I want to give up. But I had an experience recently at the Phillips Collection, that provided some strength and clarity to help me get through this difficult time. I participated in a fun and insightful museum program called Art-O-Mancy.
I was confused about the name at first and found out -omancy is a term that means gaining life guidance at random, usually by relying on fate. Cartomancy is learning your future from a deck of cards. Bibliomancy is opening books to random pages and finding answers to life’s questions. So artomancy is following fate through a museum (blindfolded!) and learning what the museum wants to teach you.
I don’t believe in fate, but I absolutely believe in revelation, both from the Spirit and self-revelation. I also believe in positive and negative energy. This was an opportunity to explore from multiple angles the question I was suppose to prepare ahead of time to present to "the muse." I decided the question I’d pose was, “What do I need to do to navigate this difficult transition time?”
I was paired with two guides, one of whom was a professional life coach, and asked to wear a blindfold. Sitting on a hallway bench on the bottom level of the Phillips Collection, I blindly held a museum map on my lap. I was asked to use my non-dominate hand and, while thinking of my question, follow the energy to where I felt I should stop. I used my left hand and felt silly at first. I actually prayed inside of me that the Spirit would guide me through this process. I guess that’s just the way my mind works. After a few moments, I really did feel a pulling energy and a hot spot. I put my finger down and felt that was the spot for me.
I was then guided onto an elevator, stopped on a mystery level, and was guided to the spot my finger chose on the map. Once there, I was asked to stop and feel out the area. Did I want to turn left? Right? Walk a little more? I tried out turning slightly left. Didn’t feel right. I tried turning widely to my right, felt I should move back to my left slightly. And then I stopped and felt that was the spot for me. Before I took my blindfold off, my guide asked me to discuss how I felt at that moment. I said I hoped I was standing in front of a painting and not a blank wall, drinking fountain, or fire extinguisher. I felt optimistic and hopeful. I chose this spot, because it felt peaceful and private as opposed to some of the areas I had walked through that felt drafty and noisy.
I took my blindfold off and I was shocked and amazed at what I saw before my eyes.
Edward Bruce, Power, c.1933
A huge smile spread across my face, because I
couldn’t imagine a more hopeful image. Right before my eyes was the powerful
cityscape of New York, with rays of sunshine breaking through clouds and
shining over the whole scene. The mighty Brooklyn Bridge connects the
background to the foreground of the Brooklyn banks of the East River. The
perspective is that of someone standing not far from the river and bridge,
clearly focusing on that exciting city in the distance. I described all of this
to my guides, and told them that to me this is symbolic of where I stand now
(recent grad searching for a full-time collections management position), what I
need to do to achieve my goal (cross that bridge!) and achieving my goal of getting
a job (making it to the big city!).
The guide asked me to read the label. Again I
couldn’t believe my eyes.
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The title of this painting is Power. It was painted by Edward Bruce, an American painter, son of
a minister, who “brought spiritual fervor to his landscapes and cityscapes.”
The title means a lot to me. I told my guides I am a very religious person, so both the title and the religious undertones really resonated with me. The question I brought was “What do I need to do to
navigate this difficult transition time?” To me the answer is rely on the power
I have within and rely on God’s power to get through this difficult time.
My guide asked me to also consider the world’s
power. How could I incorporate the world’s power as I go through my transition
time? I thought about that and determined that all the things you do to find a
job through networks, connections, communicating, learning, developing
skills are equally important. Those are ways to tap the world’s power. Those are things I need to
remember too.
I also like that this painting was created during
the early years of the Depression. Because, let’s face it, getting rejection
letters is depressing. But this image is a message of hope and a message of
patience. At least that’s how I interpret it. I may be on the lowly banks, but
the path is clear before me. I just need to put one foot in front of the other,
cross the bridge, and soon, I will reach my destination of starting my career!
On a related note, as I was recently reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, I was amazed
and touched by a passage about poor, little Francie—a girl raised in Brooklyn,
who reverenced New York City as a magic place of her dreams that she had not
yet ever visited. In a lot of ways, she represents where I stand in the
painting above. Maybe she’s the only one who understands what crossing that
bridge and reaching the city would mean to me. Here’s the passage, my favorite
from the whole book:
Johnny [Francie’s father] took Francie up on the roof. She saw a whole
new world. Not far away was the lovely span of the Williamsburg Bridge. Across
the East River, like a fairy city made of silver cardboard, the skyscrapers
loomed cleanly. There was the Brooklyn Bridge further away like an echo of the
nearer bridge.
“It’s pretty,” said Francie. “It’s pretty the same way pictures of
in-the-country are pretty.”
“I go over that bridge sometimes when I go to work,” Johnny said.
Francie looked at him in wonder. He
went over that magic bridge and still talked and looked like always? She
couldn’t get over it. She put out her hand and touched his arm. Surely the
wonderful experience of going over that bridge would make him feel different. She was disappointed
because his arm felt as it had always felt.
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