The Road Less Traveled

Maryhill Museum

If you are planning travels this summer then I have a few recommendations regarding possible side trips. I've visited each of the following museums and can assure you that it is worth the journey. While exhibitions and collections available for viewing change, the museums in and of themselves will provide you with a plethora of dinner conversation.

If you are visiting Portland, Oregon, rent a car and drive a couple of hours east, past the Dalles of the  Columbia river. There you will find the Maryhill Museum of Art, an extraordinary castle constructed by Sam Hill. Old Sam was the consummate 19th century Robber Baron. Have you ever wondered about the origin of the phrase "what in the Sam Hill are you doing?" Well, this magical place is the origin of that colloquialism. You will not only discover the magnificent castle he built on the banks of the Columbia, but you will also find an amazing collection of works by the French sculptor Auguste Rodin, a fascinating 19th century American and European painting collection, Native American artifacts, stage sets and mannequins from 1946 Theatre de la Mode, and over a hundred unusual chess sets. Apparently, Mr. Hill was a charmer because you will also discover a collection of Orthodox iconographic paintings donated by Queen Marie of Romania. Her Majesty was a friend and adviser and encouraged Hill to turn his riverside mansion into a museum. She even contributed paintings and royal regalia including her crown. Another incredible female admirer was modern dancer and choreographer Loie Fuller. Maryhill's collection includes photographs, costumes and documentary films of her performances. If that was not enough, a full scale replica of Stonehenge is located adjacent to the Castle. Be sure to visit this exquisite accredited museum. Maryhill Museum of Art

Many year ago I visited the Canajoharie Museum and Library with Judy Larsen, then Director of the National Museum of Women in the Arts. We were there on behalf of the American Association of Museums and discovered an extraordinary collection in a remote location of western New York state. Since then the museum has undergone a major addition and name change. The new Arkell Museum at Canajoharie presents that marvelous collection of paintings by Winslow Homer. That alone is worth the journey from Albany down the meandering road following the Hudson River. By the way, if you fly into Albany, be sure to visit the Shaker Museum. You'll discover the grave of Ann Lee, an amazing historical figure and founder of the Shaker faith. This was before cell phone waiting parking lots at major airports. I rented a car for the visit and had some time to kill before Judy's flight arrived. I stumbled upon this wonderful museum adjacent to the airport entrance.

Prescott with Thumb Butte in the background

A few years ago, my wife and I traveled to Prescott, Arizona (pronounced like biscuit) to consult with the staff and board of the Phippen Museum featuring the Art and Heritage of the American West. The drive from Prescott through the Dells to the museum site is stunning.

If you stay in Prescott be sure to visit the Palace Restaurant and Grill located in a cowboy era bar. You will enjoy the finest free range steak and delight in wonderful old west artifacts on display in cases around the restaurant. Be sure to ask about the ornate bar. Apparently, the building burned near the end of the 19th century. The good people of Prescott ran into the inferno, picked up the bar and carried it across the road to the courthouse square. Legend has it that they shared drinks at their new outdoor bar and watched the building burn.

I beg you - never pass up a rural road sign promoting a local museum. Four summers ago the Tullos family, minus three grown children, were headed to South Carolina to visit my wife's brother and his family. I noticed one of those brown state tourism signs indicating that the Laurel and Hardy Museum was located a few miles off the highway in Harlem, Georgia. It was late in the afternoon and we planned to overnight in Atlanta. Who needs to sit in a hotel room for an additional hour? We turned off, despite the groans of our sixteen year old daughter. Harlem boasted about a dozen buildings and we found the museum housed in the old Post Office. I peeked in a window and returned to the car shaking my head in disappointment. It was closed. "Another nice mess" I'd gotten us into. Then I heard cries from someone down the street. "Don't leave! Do you want to visit our museum?"  A charming elderly lady happily unlocked the door and provided admission, free of charge.

Oliver Hardy was born and raised in Harlem and as a tribute to their native son the community established a museum. Film props and promotional ephemera filled the small gallery. It was one of the most fascinating hours I've ever spent in such a small space. Be sure to purchase a T-shirt and make a contribution.

I've had the good fortune to spend most of my life around intrinsically valuable objects. The experience of visiting a museum is contrary to our fast paced, "Google it" world. I hope you will slow down a bit this summer and seek out something beautiful, strange and wonderful.

Also, click over to Country Roads Magazine a great regional publication. "My Favorite Objects from our Regions Museums" is featured this month.


Please share one of your unique museum experiences in the comment section of Object and Idea.

Lions, Tigers and Bears...

My first day as the Executive Director of the Museum of East Texas started with an interesting discovery. It was my first directorship and I learned the hard way that museum boards never share with a candidate the Museum's real challenges during the job interview process. In most cases they don't recognize them as problems. That was the case with the museum of art and history located in the piney woods of East Texas.

The museum was housed in an old Episcopal Church near downtown Lufkin and across the street from the city's new convention center. On the day of my interview I toured the buildings with the interim director. My cursory review of the director's office revealed a huge wooden desk sitting atop a Persian rug, a number of filing cabinets and an air mattress on the floor. When I inquired about the air mattress I was told the former director spent the last few days of his tenure camped out in his office. The only thing hanging on the wall was a peculiar and vicious looking stuffed Baboon mounted on a faux tree limb. Unfortunately, I didn't inquire about the baboon during the tour.

A image of a similar baboon

After settling into the office on my first day, my assistant, Vanessa Van Natta, gave me a basic orientation of museum operations, showing me how the phones worked, the filing systems, and a really cool index card "database" of museum members with neatly typed information and a picture of each individual, couple or family group glued in the upper left corner (this was 1987). I interrupted her presentation and asked about the stuffed Baboon hanging on the wall in my office. She replied, "Oh, they didn't tell you about the animal collection?" I was overcome by a morbid curiosity. 

During my site visit and interview with the museum's board I saw portions of the Lufkin Rotary Club Collection of Western Art, a number of works by regional artists from Texas, a very nice collection of Modern prints and works on paper, a well-organized collection of historical photographs from the 19th century, and an installation replicating the inside of a 19th century general store - a major attraction for the local schools. It was a nice beginning for a small art and history museum. No one said anything about branching out into natural science.

I believe my favorite part of any museum is the collections storage area. The careful arrangement of collections, identification labels, glicine wrappings and acid free boxes give me a sense of order.
Instead of heading for the collections storage building, Vanessa led me to the old pew-less church sanctuary which was serving as a social area for the museum. She opened two large doors leading to the choir room located behind the altar. Hundreds of glassy eyes stared back at me. It looked like an orgy of fur, claws and teeth haphazardly piled in the dark confined space. "I would turn on the light switch but it's on the other side of the room." Vanessa explained. "How many are there?" I responded in total shock. I could make out a standing Grizzly Bear in the back and near the front, a pouncing lion. I saw a myriad of deer and antelope heads and elephant foot stools with Zebra skin seat cushions. "I'm not sure, over a hundred, maybe?" she replied.

Later that day I had lunch with the Museum Board President and he explained that the trophy collection had been given by a retired physician from the community. He was a member of the prestigious Pineywoods Safari Club, an exotic game hunting and preservation organization. Apparently his wife had given him an ultimatum and just like that the symbols of the good Doctor's manhood and virility were "out the door" and now on my doorstep.

I learned from my minister Father that you don't poke-the-bear if you don't have too, especially on your first day on the job. Weeks passed and I had quiet conversations with board members regarding my concern for the investment of time and resources in the perpetual care of what was essentially a trophy collection, not even a scientific collection.  I could handle the programs and administration of the art and the local history collections, but this was a totally different animal. My background was in visual art. During one of our first board meetings it was determined that we would pursue the construction of a new museum facility and the renovation of the existing church buildings for the purpose of education and social activities. Fortunately, during these deliberations everyone agreed we could afford to operate a bi-discipline museum, but adding a natural science collection was unreasonable. Besides, the city already boasted an accredited Zoo. The people in Lufkin were very kind. Say what you want about Texans, they are generous people, just don't cross them. No one wanted to insult the Dr. and his family but it was imperative that we find another home for the trophy collection.

The old Episcopal Church

There are occasions when the light of providence comes right down on your problem and reveals the solution. This happened one morning when the Dr. dropped by the museum. He sat in my office with his fingers laced on his stomach and a smile on his face. "I've got a proposition for you," he said.  I began listening for the catch. He bashfully explained that he had found himself on the wrong side of the law when he was accosted for trying to make his way home after partying with his golf buddies at Crown Colony Country Club. The penalty was one month community service and of course, a hefty fine. He wondered if he could serve out his community service through the museum.

I learned in Sunday School that "...all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."  I've always said that "God looks out for fools, drunks and Mark Tullos... in that order." Well, here was evidence of that great truth. This was my opportunity. I could work on the Dr.'s perspective concerning his collection and perhaps win over a convert, an advocate for transferring the hunting trophies to another organization. Better yet, maybe he would support the idea of selling the trophy mounts, with the proceeds benefiting the museum's new building campaign and endowment.

Over the next month we became friends. We made a bargain to present parts of the collection in conjunction with a museum fundraiser to be called The Wild Game Dinner. After the event we would seek to sell the trophy mounts to benefit the museum or find a suitable home for them in the community.

The fundraiser was a huge success. The Safari Club wives and members of the Lufkin Service League presented a stunning feast including exotic water buffalo roast, baked Guinea Fowl, Kudu steaks and wild boar kabobs. We dined in the old church sanctuary by candlelight under the frozen gaze of the very creatures we were eating. Guests donned pith helmets and khaki outfits. The event was a huge success. We even secured a lead for the possible sale of all the mounts. An abatement attorney from Houston was building a huge hunting lodge in the Big Bend region of Texas. Apparently he needed some décoration appropriée for his new getaway.

An entry in the museum newsletter

Unfortunately, the sale never came to fruition. The attorney flew into Lufkin regional on his private plane, spent about 15 minutes with the trophy mounts, and said abruptly, "not interested, they're not shot right." He left. I remember looking at our Board President and asking, "Not shot right?" He just shrugged.


Months later we finally came up with a solution.The Superintendent of the Lufkin Independent School district was a big sportsman. He even provided his elementary cafeterias with venison from his fall hunting trips. The trophy collection was to be installed on the cafeteria walls of the local schools. I can imagine that after nearly three decades there are a lot of animal rights activists who forged their convictions in the school cafeterias of Lufkin, Texas.

By 1989, we established a formal collections policy and accessioned every artwork and local history object into the permanent collection. We also raised the funds needed for the new museum and renovation of the old church facilities and opened the new MET in Lufkin on a beautiful September day, sans trophy mounts.

Groundbreaking for the new museum.

The new Museum of East Texas we opened in 1989 with the renovated church in the background.

The Apparition of Madam X

I believe one of the reasons I'm devoted to our work in museums is that we teach people to truly see and make important associations between objects and ideas. My life has been richer because I can read both word and imagery. My teachers were Nancy Foil, my high school art teacher, Edward Pramuk, Harvey Harris, Joe Bova, Susan Baker and many other professors at university who guided and challenged me. They instructed me in the craft of making the right associations. They taught me how to see.

We rarely make conscious associations regarding what we see, but for me, one night twenty years ago, it was different. The night was perfect. No breeze, no moon. Luke, my eleven year old son, and I grabbed the nets and lantern and headed for the beach. Soft shell crabs are easier to see beneath the water's surface with the absence of moonlight reflection and movement on the surface. I love balmy nights on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. The brackish inter-coastal waterways between the barrier islands and the coast are teaming with shrimp, crabs and red fish. Fried soft shell crab is never better than when it is served within an hour of the catch.

Luke and I began pacing, knee deep in the tide, shuffling our feet side by side. We didn't want to step directly on a sting ray. Most of the crabs we caught were lazily crawling along the bottom. If you're quick with the net you can scoop them up with little effort. It was peaceful and we were enveloped in total blackness, no sound, only the hiss of our Coleman lantern. After an hour, Luke and I caught a half dozen and headed for the shoreline when a ghost like image appeared in the periphery of my vision. A tall white figure was standing in the water just beyond the edge of our lantern glow. I held the lamp higher...I will never forget the sound of our tandem gasps...there she was, pale as moonlight, naked and elegant. She didn't move and neither did we.

I enjoy this U.S. Coastal Survey Map done in 1866, before the Casinos and oil platforms.

Later, I had to paint her. Sometimes you just need to record a moment or experience whether it be through art, music or writing.

Great Egret, Ocean Springs 1992

Standing there in the Mississippi sound I made an immediate association, one that moved me to paint, a motivation I've not enjoyed in nearly a decade. When I saw that egret I recalled the first time I saw John Singer Sargent's Madam X. While a great white egret stood in front of us in the tepid waters of the Gulf, it was the epitome of that elegant and graceful woman portrayed in Sargent's masterpiece.

John Singer Sargent, Madame X (Madame Pierre Gautreau), 1884, oil on canvas, 234.95 × 109.86 cm, (92.50 in × 43.25 in), Manhattan: Metropolitan Museum of Art.

For the past eight years I have had the privilege of serving on our Parish Public Library Board of Control. I'm always delighted and surprised when reviewing the library usage statistics. Even with the advancing digital age, libraries continue to be an important resource for the community. Libraries and museums are siblings. We both collect, preserve, and make these collections accessible to the public.

Yet, there is an important difference between libraries and art museums. In most cases library patrons know how to read. As for art museums, particularly in rural communities where few people have ever been exposed to museums or the visual arts, we have to teach our patrons how to read art work. One comes to understand and fully appreciate art by spending time in museums and art galleries. This requires looking at a lot of art, reading the exhibition labels and asking a lot of questions and challenging the artist's intent or the curator's assumptions.


Just like an early reader in a preschool classroom, individuals learning to understand art, must begin by knowing the history and meaning of rudimentary imagery. "Reading" an exhibition of Modern or Contemporary art requires basic mastery of the visual lexicon of art. With a little study one can recognize and recall the meaning of symbols, compositions, color use and imagery. I've never seen "new" art. I've seen great contemporary art that owes its origination to the annals of preceding forms and ideas. All imagery is built on the foundation of creations by preceding artists. Representations from earlier artistic efforts are reused, recycled and translated in some way to create a different image or object. A wonderful example of how powerful a visual heritage can be is found in the work of Deborah Grant. Watch a video interview with Grant presented on NewArtTV.

Cave Paintings

Cave paintings in Lascoux, France

Some anthropologists and art historians claim our visual language began over 50,000 years ago in places like the caves of Lascoux, France and the deserts of Australia. Early man discovered that mark-making was an effective way to communicate ideas and record events, either real or dreamed. Our first language was a visual language, not a written language.  Many scholars suspect that these paintings and their associative meaning held tremendous power over the future of the people who created them.

 "Paint the antelope and they will appear in the fields tomorrow."

When I have an opportunity to speak with students visiting the museum, I try to impress upon them the importance of mastering both the written and visual language. I tell them to expand their visual reference library with works of art from every age and culture and to enrich their vocabulary with new and old words.  Don't be afraid to associate words and begin to create stories and poems. Don't hesitate to make associations between imagery and meaning.


While some people may have reservations about the deductions of anthropologists and art historians regarding the beliefs of primitive man and his mark making, I know that Virginie Gautreau (Madame X) appeared to me in the form of an egret that warm July night in the shallows of the Mississippi sound.