All I know, all I owe, I owe Iowa
I thought this captured some of the surreal-ness of the day.
Usually that's not a phrase that evokes excitement or apprehension, but what would our trip be with just a boring drive from point a to point b?
When we left Chicago, the sky was dark, heavy, and low. It put one in mind of tornadoes.
Me: Well, that would be exciting - Tor-na-does! Tor-na-does!
Frankie: Did I ever tell you about my irrational but crippling fear of tornadoes?
Me: Gen-tle breeze! Gen-tle breeze!
We only had one stop planned on our way to Des Moins, and that was House on the Rock, Wisconsin.
This was our first clue
Like so many others, I heard of this place through the book American Gods, and the fact that it is real sealed the deal.
I'm not, however, sure that real is the right word for it.
It was, however, interesting to eavesdrop (what a wonderful word that is) on the conversations of other people trying to comprehend the why and wherefore of the place. Which is really two different places.
First is the home, although it's highly unconventional as homes go. It does have a cooking area, and probably sleeping areas as well, but the bulk of it is dedicated to little salons, nooks, libraries, all with hearths, lined with a combination of Japanese and Indonesian screening and low ceilings. The place hews to the contours of the land and existing formations; there are indoor trees that peek through the roof, rock outcroppings, and water carefully integrated. But like any home, there are personal touches that make it unique - the shag carpeting on the floor and ceiling, Tiffany lamps, throw pillows - it's quite cozy.
Don't mind my bosoms, I'm just here with these lamps
This wall/shelf is made from 1" thick slabs of broken glass.
But then you round the corner and find this:
Or this, which supplies music:
Architecturally the place is amazing. He built (much the same way as our old place on El Dorado) by starting at one end and working toward the other, although his was more inside/out.
One of the more stunning areas is the Infinity Room.
Here's a shot (not mine) from the side. Filters much?
But that's the living area. Where things start to get really interesting is when you get into the collections.
One thing the guy had a knack for was identifying and collecting things right before everybody else got on the bandwagon. He amassed huge collections of scrimshaw, dolls (super creepy), "Tiffany" lamps, self playing instruments - basically whatever caught his fancy at the moment. He started out organizing these items into displays that either gave them some historical context, like the Streets of Yesterday. But even that is a ruse, given how much of the items are replicas, duplicates, or fabricated from whole cloth.
The carousel I think reaches peak "House on the Rock." It starts with actual carousel horses, many with familiar Dentzel designs. Then it goes through the "Lets build the largest carousel" phase. Then, the pieces, many of which are damaged, are rebuilt (as opposed to refurbished).
The body is a Dentzel griffin. This is what they put on top.
They also developed their own painting technique, starting with a black base and building up layers of lighter color and glazes.
Then you put these chimeras on a giant carousel that nobody rides, while disembodied instruments play music and angels vaguely reminiscent of harpies hover overhead.
Just take a look at the faces and figures as they pass by.
a lion with a human face, and I don't ever want to again.
There is also his obsession with self playing instruments, and the building of massive pieces (including an orchestra) that play with varying degrees of success. Even some of that is faked - you see the strings being played, but the note is actually from an organ.
But that didn't stop him from putting together life size figures in huge tableaus, with instruments. They describe this piece, the Mikado, as his masterwork.
Just play and listen. No words.
Honestly, I sometimes don't know if he was earnest or just playing a big game of mindfuck. Either way, it's kind of genius.
After that, we drove in absolutely torrential rain to Des Moins, Iowa.
Our host that night was a really nice, kind person.
We do a lot of Air bnb and we have run the gamut from "perfectly clean/don't touch our stuff to the "hey, here's the extra bedroom."
This place... well, first of all, she made hot mulled cider for when we got there. Because it was nippy.
The room was stocked with snacks, beverages (even beer and wine), the bathroom with toiletries, and of course, we were to help ourselves from what ever was in the fridge or pantry. It was so incredibly generous.
Plus, and I see this a lot, there are people out there who call themselves artists. And yeah, most of produce art. But this woman painted, sculpted, did calligraphy, obviously was well read, and yet at no point did she call herself an artist.
She identified as a grandmother.
Way to make the term fucking bad ass.
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