travel day twenty-four. part 2.

tuesday december 9, 2008. day twenty-four.

I had just sat down on bus 151 and raindrops were clobbering the windows.

The rain was unbelievable, like how your mind imagines monsoons. Heavy grayish walls of water. Once the bus door slid open, I had no choice but to get out and walk into the storm. I stepped onto the sidewalk and braced my body for the wind. I lurched my upper body forward and pushed against the wind. I could have been blown into the street. Shuffled over to the bus stop overhang and rummaged for my directions. My fingers were unhealthily pink and the hotel behind me didn't have a visible address so i took a guess and began walking north. Wrong way. Turn around. I was swathed in layers of fabric and the rain soaked through most of it. My legs were burning from the sleet.

I had only spent 3 minutes in the weather. It felt like several hours.

If only my coat had been longer.

My tight little curling iron curls were ruined, too.

But, I made it! The International Museum of Surgical Science! Sitting like a spoiled prince on Lake Shore Drive, the stone mansion was only one in a row of many stone mansions and still, the building was a strange, beautiful, captivating counterpoint to the icy shores of Lake Michigan. You'd never guess the gruesome wonders held inside.

The first floor anatomy illustrations were juxtaposed by a magnificent crystal chandelier. Classy and gothic. I was in dire need of a flute of champagne, I mean really.

The exhibits, such as this dentistry one, were set up as if the doctors and their assistants had just stepped out and while you were admiring their sharp tools one of them could storm in and scold you for trespassing. I thought it was a very clever way of displaying their eerie antique teeth and glass bottles.

The ghosts and cold whispers were very, very palpable here in the dark first floor gallery.

The apothecary exhibit was interactive. Unusual.

Press a button and the animatronic man with hollow black eyes would spring to life describing his collections of magic potions labeled "medicine." He described his extracts and chemical procedures with such revelry, I forgot I was actually alone in the museum room.

The doll stopped moving and tiny dust particles twirled in the air between him and me.

In fact, I was alone in the whole museum, save for the curator in the downstairs office. She pointed out the coat room, museum maps and donation bin and left me alone.

There were no windows in the first floor gallery. No people. No movement. And I could have sworn I heard soft footsteps and hushed voices. This is my imagination taking me for a ride. And I'm glad it did, the experience was that much stranger.

Surrounded by dark corners, broken teeth on display and whisper echos. How would you feel?

Enough of this creepy back-room gallery! I have three more floors to explore, each with expansive windows and dummy's that do not talk to you. I will not be frightened! But, even in daylight, being almost alone in a stone mansion full of skeletons and macabre medical contraptions made me jumpy. I felt a hundred little ants crawling all over me, or rather ...

a hundred tiny figures?!

"Curiouser and curiouser!"

On we go, to the second floor!

You will laugh at me (if not already), I know this, but ...

I took individual photos of each of these menacing statutes in hopes that the ghosts trailing me would be kind throughout my visit.

I am bizarre and illogical, sometimes.

Isn't this stunning? Can you see the doctors arguing theory over practice?

Radiohead fan can't pass up the opportunity to snap an iron lung.

Seriously?

He watches you.

And that was the other thing, I felt like I was being watched because I was. There were hundreds of paintings, each with its own maniacal creep staring at you from across the room.

Nice.

Certainly, with a large group of elementary school children, the museum becomes a lighthearted, almost tedious, educational experience. To me, who was absolutely alone in the upper floors, who was hearing the floors creak and groan, who jumped at reflections in the glass, it was spooky.

Where are your surgical masks, sirs?!

Oh, it's ok, it's just another CORPSE PAINTING. Gloom.

.... ok? At least when you're alone in a museum, you can unabashedly stare at this guy's testicles for over 15 minutes (and then come back for another 10 minutes).

I'm not sure if it's only because the sun was shining in through the front, but the east side exhibits were much less creepy. I was actually enjoying myself. The ghosts left me alone.

I looked at my watch. Almost two hours!? I jogged through the next few exhibits and made lightening fast opinions.

Dummy: Aaaahhhhh! Bottles: cool!

Don't have time to read- will snap a pic and read it later.

Love this.

Love this more.

The nursing exhibit! Yay, mom!

It was quite silly how tiny the Nursing exhibit was. In a field where doctors are thieves, belligerent and drunk on power, nurses quietly step in to assess and fix the problems. Mending the broken pieces and tying all loose ends, she slips out as silently as she came in, all the while the physicians bicker, make mistakes, overlook simple practice.

My lack of respect for m.d.'s is clearly not pervasive, though.

Why did I snap this?

Around this time, a group of Korean girls arrived in the same 3rd floor exhibits as me. They kept to themselves and barely made any sounds.

Abnormalities.

Hahaha! I love that they used an x-ray lamp to post a paper. ANYWAY, this exhibit was basically, well, unexpected!

Abstract sculptural art at the Surgical Science Museum. Strange.

And amazing.

Do you see out that window? As soon as I took off my jacket and dried off, the weather calmed down a bit. Figures.

Therapeutic?

Dissecting a leather show. Oh la.

Ew.

OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG EWWWWWWWWWW (tumor with ... t ... t ... teeth)

WHY AM I LOOKING AT THIS STUFF?

I realized it was well into the afternoon and I had nothing to show except 45 pictures of bladder stones. We started off this surgical journey apprehensive and slightly creeped out, became interested, learned some things about medical art, found my footing and ended on a strong note.

Oh, you guys. Great. I'm scared again.

I donated some quarters on the way out and walked out to the bus stop. After all that academia, I could go a little wild at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Here we go ...