S.F. art museums ready to reopen
After being closed for more than three months during the second wave of the pandemic lockdown, San Francisco art museums plan to be open this weekend, museum officials announced.
The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art was the first to announce that it plans to welcome back visitors — with free admission — on Sunday, March 7, albeit at 25% capacity. Advance timed reservations are strongly encouraged, and face masks will be required of all visitors ages 3 and older, both inside the galleries and outside on SFMOMA’s sculpture and dining patios. Elevators will also be limited to four passengers, and social distancing guidelines will be enforced in all areas.
“We’re thrilled to welcome the community for safe and uplifting inperson art experiences in our spacious, airy galleries once again,” said SFMOMA Director Neal Benezra in a statement.
The news came shortly after Mayor London Breed hosted a news conference on Tuesday, March 2, to report that San Francisco had been elevated from the most restricted purple tier of pandemic lockdown to the red tier, which allows cultural institutions to reopen at limited capacity.
The Asian Art Museum, however, will officially be the first to welcome patrons, with doors opening Thursday, March 4. The museum will also offer free admission on Sunday, along with the first Sunday of every month going forward. Timed advance ticketing is required during all visits.
In addition, the de Young Museum will herald its Saturday, March 6, return with the American premiere of the traveling exhibition “CalderPicasso.” The show explores the relationship between American mobile creator Alexander Calder and Spanish painter Pablo Picasso.
Also returning is “Frida Kahlo: Appearances Can Be Deceiving,” which had been open for 10 weeks before the museum closed in March 2020. It is extended through May 2, with advance tickets required.
The de Young plans to offer free admission on Saturday and all Saturdays thereafter.
My husband Brian earned a degree in dance from New York University and, as he tells the story, the only nondance class he took was in mythology. So, whenever the Final Jeopardy question is “Greek Myths,” he always yells, “Bet it all!”
Which is how I know about Persephone. She was the daughter of Demeter, the goddess of the harvest. According to legend, Persephone went out to the meadow, and as she plucked a daffodil, the earth opened and out came Hades, the ruler of hell. They ran off in his chariot and Persephone became queen of hell, which — although not quite queen of heaven — still had its perks.
Demeter and her buddy Hecate went off looking for her. They were away for so long that Demeter forgot about her fruitfulness duties, and so there was no harvest. That got Zeus involved, and he told Demeter literally to go to hell, where she would find her daughter.
But there was a rule that if you ate there you had to stay, and Persephone had already consumed a third of a pomegranate. She was allowed to leave the underworld but had to return for a third of the year, every year. Demeter refused to do any work while her daughter was away, which is why we now have winter.
There are people who are clever with gardening, and then there’s me.
When we first moved in, I planted olive trees, New Zealand tea trees, blueberry bushes, crocuses and tomatoes. But the outer, outer, outer, outer Excelsior is a tricky climate, and our failures outnumbered our successes. True story: I killed off a century plant that had flourished since the year the Bedlam Blue Bungalow was built in 1926. The only things I’ve ever planted that lived were California lilacs, which had more to do with the magic of the triplets than it did me.
Aidan is more persistent than me. One March he planted sunflowers, and five months later, we had three fully grown stalks.
At some point, though, I acquiesced. I filled the miniature front lawn with fireplace glass, different colors so it appeared like we knew about both artistry and xeriscaping. But the truth is, the glass buried my lack of herbology skills. No planting. No manure. No watering. Done.
The larger plants thrive in this lack of competition. Those lilacs bloom lustily, and fat honeybees hover around, sipping their nectar.
Our younger neighbors, Sierra and Emmylou, declared our frontage to be Gem World, and each night they bring home a jewel they found on our “lawn.” There’s a fair amount of replenishment involved, but it’s more than worth it to give a child a little magic.
None of this explains the daffodils. We’ve lived here since 1999 and have never once planted daffodil bulbs. We’ve never once watered the glass. And yet, this week, popping out of the yellow crystals came two fragile buds. Another mystery, but a welcome one. Aidan also pointed out that in the trees above, there flew a hummingbird.
Funny how two yellow narcissus, a hummingbird and a cerulean sky will put you in a good mood. Springtime has arrived at the Bedlam Blue Bungalow. Persephone spent the past four months in hell and it felt like all of us went with her. Tom Seaver, Dawn Wells, Larry King, Charley Pride, Nick Cordero and half a million others died from COVID19 complications. And last week, San Francisco lost Lawrence Ferlinghetti, our Beat poet laureate.
Winter is not quite over. The shadows have not quite passed. We will not forget those who are gone. For Persephone, the daffodil meant all hell broke loose. But our two daffodils? They give us hope. They tell us there’s a vaccine. They tell us there’s a new president.
Even as I type this column, the Giants are busy with spring training, which truly proves that hope springs eternal.
The outer, outer, outer, outer Excelsior is a tricky climate, and our failures outnumbered our successes. True story: I killed off a century plant that had flourished since 1926.