In late August, members of the Dickinson Organization of Poetry Enthusiasts (DOPE) visited Glenstone, a private contemporary art museum about 15 miles from downtown Washington, D.C., iin Potomac, Maryland. We had not been there before, so we were excited to see the place -- it is a perfect mix of architecture, contemporary art (all from after World War II), nature, and zen. It was quite the experience -- and if you ever get the chance to visit, do so!
Glenstone's website is HERE, and more on the museum can be found HERE.
Photography was not allowed inside – so we took the exterior shots below on the left; however, the interior shots (below on the right) are from the museum’s Instagram account.
To view Glenstone's Instagram account, click HERE.
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In response to our visit, we offer Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem "There's a certain Slant of Art" (below on the left). Dickinson was a true Libran (his birthday is October 12), so he always liked things symmetrical and even, and the "Look of Descent" of a crooked picture hanging on the wall would drive him crazy! Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "There's a certain Slant of light" (below on the right).
By Emmett Lee Dickinson: There’s a certain Slant of Art On Museum Walls – In Parlors – or Foyers – Or sloping in Great Halls – That peeves the Eye of Detail – A Point of View with Intolerable imbalance – Like stripes on plaid – Unheavenly Angle – like the bubble Of the Carpenter’s Level Descending to a lower plane – Diagonality – of the Devil – None may reach it – Any – ‘Tis the Tilt of Despair – Disconcerting Declivity Soliciting Repair – When it dips, the Landscape lists – And I am inclined – bent – On righting the pitched frame’s Look of Descent – | By Emily Dickinson: There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons – That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes – Heavenly Hurt, it gives us – We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are – None may teach it – Any – ‘Tis the Seal Despair – An imperial affliction Sent us of the Air – When it comes, the Landscape listens – Shadows – hold their breath – When it goes, ‘tis like the Distance On the look of Death – |
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