Today we went to San Francisco to see the Keith Haring exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art. Rich and I had walked past the MOMA a number of times in '93 during WorldCon, but it wasn't finished yet, and besides, modern art is not really our thing. I really like Haring, however, and after seeing the sculptures outside in May, I've been wanting to see this exhibit.

I even walked the dog 1.1 miles before we left in the morning, which is good. On the way we drove past a car decorated with trolls and dinosaurs and stuff, with a bumper sticker that said "Guns don't kill people, postal workers do."

Parking was easy, and we walked to the museum and went in. Now, I was the only one of the four of us who actually liked this exhibit. Haring makes me smile. Some of the pictures were disturbing, true, and I can see where the menfolk wouldn't be that pleased with the scissors and the male anatomy pictures, but I liked most of them. There were one or two sculptures indoors which Rich liked. It's a big exhibit, with lots of notes and snapshots and things Haring thought important. He thought AIDS was a Government plot to kill off blacks and gays.

After we left that exhibit we looked at a video exhibit, and then to the photography floor. Now, there were pictures from glass negatives in the 1850s that were stunning, like one of the ruins at Thebes, and another from Venice. There was one from a total eclipse that was very impressive. There was an Ansel Adams which was gorgeous. And then there was a whole gallery of snapshots! Heck, I could mat and frame my Mom's collection for this. I HAVE these pictures, the baby in the bathtub, the people draped on the roadster, the dressed-up woman. I especially have the dinosaur. I knew just where it's from. It's in the Black Hills near Rapid City, and my picture, wherever it is, looks just like that one. Shall-we-say, the snapshots, while interesting, didn't impress me.

The next floor, the Matisse gallery. The pictures and sculptures here were all Rich's worst nightmares of what modern art is. I recognized a lot of the artists: Jackson Pollock before he went completely to paint splashing, Diego Rivera, Lichtenstein, Dali, Mondrian, and of course Matisse. Some of them were nice, many of them were nightmare-inducing. It got more and more surreal as we wandered along. There was the totally black rectangle with some paint texture. There was the shiny blue one at an angle against the wall (Bernadette's comment: "Minimalist leanings.") There was the plexiglass with the black and white texture, that I wanted to spin so the "sand would make new patterns." There was a wonderful piece that looked like a huge drawer pull (I actually liked this one a lot.) There was, get this, a piece entitled "Warped Plank"... a piece of wood leaning against one of the walls.
I liked the Calder stuff, mobiles and a big stabile called "Big Crinkly."

We definitely got our money's worth out of this visit. Then it was to the gift store, where I got two Haring books (and wish I'd gotten a couple of postcards!) and everyone was having a good time with the toys. (Alphabet blocks to die for, construction sets of great fun, expanda-globes.) Finally out the door, and we were on a quest to see as many of the outdoor sculptures as we could find.

The first is at the corner, near the Convention Center. It's a "Red Dog." He does make me smile! From there we walked up to Union Square where there were a couple more.
On the opposite corner of the square I saw a lot of people, and a guy holding up a big poster. I thought he was orating, a la Hyde Park, and was going to head there after the sculptures. I got pictures of the "figure balancing on dog" (covered with children, which was partly Haring's idea!) and started toward the other one, noticing people were lined up along the street, like a parade... oh, DRAT! That's right, Clinton is in town!

You guys have probably figured out how I feel about Slick Willie. I generally go out of my way to avoid him, if I know he's anywhere around. But, well, there we were. Bernadette kind of wanted to see a President, and we were right there with a good view, and it looked like he'd be along any second. So we stayed. I refused to allow the Curmudgeon to joke about having a gun, since I really wanted to get home sometime today.

We probably waited about 10 minutes, and the motorcade went through. I got a picture of the two cars (who was in the other one, Gray Davis?) but didn't try very hard. What are the odds, Clinton was on our side of the street. The people at the corner raised a cheer, which spurred me, and the Curmudgeon, to boo heartily. In the interests of equal time, you understand. He shouldn't believe his poll numbers all THAT much. C. started to wave, and I turned my back. I really do NOT like the man, but at least Bernadette got to see him. (She neither cheered nor booed.)

The man with the poster says that Paula Jones, Linda Tripp, Monica, Clinton, are all agents of Satan. Politically neutral, I guess.
So then we looked at the other sculpture, and walked a block or so along Geary and had lunch. Nice cafe, beats the usual fast-food joint near the parking garage. I kept apologizing for getting us anywhere near Clinton, till I realized how silly that sounded. Bad planning, but it didn't work out too badly.

After lunch we continued up Geary. I pointed out the theaters to Bernadette, and we walked to Van Ness. Bernadette calls the Cathedral, which we could see a couple of blocks on, Our Lady of the Maytag. We turned south to the War Memorial, where there are three more smile-inducing sculptures. We then walked back to the car, seeing the United Nations Plaza on the way. Bernadette had not known the UN started in San Francisco. En route we passed the Burningman entry, which is being shown for another week before it goes to Nevada. We also peered in the window and saw a neon tentacled monster. The building was the SF Arts Council, but at first we thought it was the next building, the Public Health building. How appropos.

The last couple of blocks to the car were Tenderloin experiences, I guess. Market Street is certainly no longer the best part of town. I was surprised, however, at how close things were to each other. In the car, the Cathedral seems a lot farther away, as does Van Ness, and Chinatown, and all the places we were today. San Francisco should be done on foot, if it weren't for those hills!

We had a car pool, which made it easier to get onto the Bay Bridge and into Berkeley, and to The Other Change of Hobbit. We must have spent an hour there.
Berkeley didn't seem to have the usual percentage of, uh, different folks. However, I did see something new to me, a college-age girl walking along with a pacifier in her mouth. It had a long black (to match her clothing and makeup) ribbon with a bell on the end.

We made a quick visit to the moved, bigger, Games of Berkeley, and so home. I actually got sunburnt, which I didn't expect in San Francisco! And, oh joy, our garbage can has finally come!