Searched For chihuly

Atlanta Botanical Garden: Imaginary Worlds

Pachystachys lutea, the golden shrimp plant

Wasabi coleus

Northern Brown Snake, a non-danger noodle

I’m just going to go ahead and assume that there’s a Chihuly present at every major attraction, and it’s my job to find it. Not because I want to document them, merely so I can say “found it!” in a flippant way. 

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Sarracenia Leucophylla ‘Tarnok’, a variety of pitcher plant. This plant was named after its discoverer and propagator, Coleman Tarnok, in Baldwin county, Alabama. He gave a specimen to the Atlanta Botanical Garden, where they have cultivated it ever since. 

Dendrobates tinctorius, a poison dart frog

I don’t know what this plant is called but so help me god if it is not named cobra something or another I am going to give SUCH a head shaking.

Venus Flytrap, stealth murderer

Maneus Magnificus, the most glam rock of all known Pegasii

The Atlanta Botanical Garden is the most delightful garden I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. I was fortunate enough to go during their “Imaginary Worlds” 2018 exhibit, where creatures real and fantastical were rendered in living plants on a giant scale. The scent, the colors, the textures juxtaposed…it was impossibly lush and thrumming with life. I spent hours bugstalking and marveling at the minute details of the plants, so much so that one of the employees in the Fuqua Orchid Center exclaimed she was surprised I was still in there. Lady, I’d set up a camp and spend the night if I didn’t think there was a possibility that I’d trip over a snapping turtle in the dark.

The Tacoma Museum of Glass

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Now that the Chihuly Garden and Glass has been installed at Seattle Center, it seems like Tacoma’s Museum of Glass is being overshadowed, much like Tacoma is by Seattle. Ask anyone who lives Seattle and they’ll tell you about “the aroma of Tacoma” from the paper mills; what they’ll neglect to tell you is that the air actually doesn’t smell anymore. It’s like a game of “he who smelt it dealt it” between cities and the stigma is permanent. It’s unfortunate because Tacoma and this museum have a lot to offer, and yet I know plenty of people who will never go because of zip code snobbery.

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The Museum of Glass houses a permanent collection as well as special exhibits and (what I consider to be the best part), a hot box, where you can watch live glassmaking demonstrations from a team of in-house glass artists as well as invited guests.  We were there while Joe Cariati was visiting (I’m the slack-jawed yokel who asked about getting burned sometime around the 50 minute mark), and were able to watch the team working on a clear and black-striped vase. It was astounding to me how much work and how many people it takes to create one glass item, which is something I’d never considered before when looking at prices on glass art.

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA   OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThis piece is called “You have a coat” which is the opposite of my dog-owning experience: the nastier it is outside, the more likely he is to want to dillydally, sniff everything, and clench his dog buttocks as long as possible.

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I’m torn on this piece: on one hand, it’s beautiful, and on the other, I’m sad a unicorn had to die.

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I really enjoyed the “Look! See?” exhibit by Jen Elek and Jeremy Bert. They had a series of displays that were meant to be touched, worn, and otherwise interacted with, their desire being to encourage visitors to think about how they are marketed to as well as creating an active museum experience: art as something you encounter and not just see.

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You can’t put me in a room with a bunch of light-up moveable letters and not expect me to spell my nickname. Well, maybe you could expect it, but it’s not going to happen.

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On one hand, I love the way this flame vase glows. On the other hand, I don’t have $925, so I will have to stick to appreciating it from afar.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI like that there’s a little window into this glass bird’s brain, intentional or not.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA I will never for one second believe that the nipples on their watermelon boobies are anything other than intentional.

“And my heart will go on and on for a period of time which closely approximates the length of this song which is forever!”

Last year, Seattle tore down the so-called “Fun Forest”–the ramshackle collection of worn, broken, sad-looking rides at Seattle Center that should have been torn down years ago if not for people’s collective nostalgia of a time when it wasn’t tagged with graffiti and falling apart. However, it’s 2012, the World’s Fair was 50 years ago, and rigs put up and torn down by carnies in a week’s time look more reliable, so good riddance, though I suppose it is a little sad to lose a genuine thrill of fear when you’re riding a rollercoaster that may fall apart at any given moment.

In its place, the city has leased the land to Chihuly Garden & Glass, the world’s largest permanent exhibit of Dale Chihuly’s work. Outside, in a similarly permanent fashion, are multiple groups of musicians attempting to lure tourists into purchasing CDs of pan-flute renditions of popular music. We entered the building to the strains of Vanessa PanFlute Williams’ “Colors of the Wind”.

While we waited for Emily and Evan to arrive, we perused the gift shop, where I learned that you can slap “local” on any $2 craft and charge upwards of $100 for it. I’m looking at you, chalkboard vases–don’t think that I didn’t see the how-to on Pinterest and can’t make my own for pennies on the dollar! I forced myself to leave before giving into the urge to pick something off a shelf and shatter it on the ground for dramatic effect.

The exhibits are very much “Hey, look at this cool artwork” without much info on any of the pieces or on Chihuly himself. I don’t know that it would have enhanced my appreciation of the work to know more about the process, but with an entire museum dedicated to one man and his work, you’d think there would be more to it than “Look at this! Now look at this! Ooooooooh!”

I’m pretty sure I saw this exact thing in Prometheus.

Birds ain’t got no respect. No respect at all.

At this point, we exited the building into the glass gardens outside, and were immediately serenaded with Celine PanFlute Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On”, which I helpfully pointed out to Emily so as not to suffer alone. When she didn’t seem to be suffering enough, I took it upon myself to sing it, loudly, changing the lyrics as I saw fit. Emily, of course, was mortified, but I like to think I added something special to the overall ambiance for the other exhibit visitors. And she keeps going out in public with me so she’s basically asking for it, because I show people I love them through large, loud, public gestures.

Where she did draw the line, however, was at my threatening to lick an ornament. I’m surprised we weren’t hustled out of there in a hot minute, but instead allowed to leave out our leisure, exiting through the aforementioned giftshop, where I once again resisted shattering an arts and crafts tourist rip-off. Poor impulse control, my ass.