Dumb Art on Oaks

July 16, 2006

Dumbarton Oaks Canon 30d

There's a lovely location in the north of Georgetown called Dumbarton Oaks. I visit frequently, as it boasts an impressive array of gardens and architecture which beg to be photographed. The rose garden in particular is pretty intoxicating, and in my opinion, worthy of an Alice in Wonderland award. Every time I walk down the long stairway leading into an aromatic paradise, I catch myself looking around for flamingo crochet clubs and playing cards with heads hands and feet!

"Off with her head!" The Red Queen screams in the distance. Sometimes I could swear I hear her calling me.

The first time I visited, I took the picture above and forwarded it to a friend of mine who said, "Dumb Art on Oaks? So... do they have a bunch of Jackson Pollack's paintings nailed to every tree?"

Ha! I take offense toward such an offensive comment! Jackson Pollack, although he isn't one of my heroes, was a breakthrough arteeeest! Still, you can't deny, it is rather funny... dumb art on oaks. (Surely this post will come back to haunt me in Georgetown one day. For the record, there is nothing but high smartypants art here.)

Actually, the garden is only part of the show. The bigger purpose of Dumbarton Oaks is its research library and collection. It's an international center providing the opportunity for studying and publishing works in Byzantine, Pre-Columbian, and Garden and Landscape Studies. Unfortunately, the main building has been undergoing renovations since I discovered it, so I've yet to indulge in a discovery tour of the interior. For now, it's just me, the greenhouse, and the roses and flower beds outside. The place is truly amazing.

Dumbarton Oaks Garden Canon 30d

The human soul needs actual beauty more than bread.
~ D.H. Lawrence

Dumbarton Oaks Green House Canon 30d

Dumbarton Oaks Window Canon 30d

I find this one a bit compelling. Why is the chair where it is, and who was just sitting there?

Posted by vincent at July 16, 2006 09:10 PM

Comments

Awesome photos...the chair is compelling.

Thanks for sharing what you see.

Posted by: beth at July 16, 2006 11:19 PM

Whoa! Talk about a place that just draws you!

Posted by: dan at July 17, 2006 12:47 AM

I can see why the place captivates you so. How very lovely. It is certainly a place to lose yourself in as you explore and take in the beauty.

Posted by: samtzmom at July 17, 2006 06:47 AM

who wouldn't want to sit in that chair and just gaze outside?

love the feeling your photos of this place evoke. i think i'll go have a spot of tea....

Posted by: ~p~ at July 17, 2006 07:12 AM

Love the last photo and loved the cricket photo of yesterday.

Posted by: yolanda at July 17, 2006 10:27 AM

~p~
yes, who wouldn't sit there! But who? A whimsical child? A wise and elderly woman? A heartbroken lover? Perhaps a woman of 41 contemplating her future. Who just got up from the chair? Whose presence still hangs in the room? It could be anyone, but for this image, the hanging presence belongs to the photographer.

;^)

Posted by: susan at July 17, 2006 12:45 PM

wow! i wanna go there. it's amazing. wouldn't a wedding be just lovely there! gorgeous!

Posted by: la vie en rose at July 17, 2006 03:27 PM

I thought maybe that you placed the chair there, since it is perfect for this photo.

Posted by: aola at July 17, 2006 11:01 PM

I could walk in there and never come out.

Posted by: candy at July 18, 2006 08:40 AM

Your photos speak of peace of mind and soul. A place to contemplate. All of your shots are stunning but the last speaks to the imagination and the soul. Put this place on our list.

Posted by: janet at July 20, 2006 11:44 AM

I love these, and I love the memory of the place. I used to go there in High School and College, sometimes. Didn't George Washington sign something important there? Or somebody important? What's the historical deal? There's some oak tree that's more important than the others, because some people met under it, if I remember right. Which I may not be.

Posted by: Wandering Willow at August 1, 2006 05:07 PM