Philly Museum

1 in household

I just got home from a four day visit to Philadelphia. On a lovely but wet afternoon the family took a stroll along the river to the Museum. Having just read Walter Benjamen, I was acutely aware of the idea that all object housed in a collection represent a conquest or victory. All conquests suggest brutality. But is was in the cafe that the brutality really hit me. I can look at art for a good solid hour before I need a coffee break. I had my handy cup with me, but once we got to the cafe the family was starved. The food was fresh and good, a nice salad bar with grilled veggie, feta, and olives. The main dishes were cooked on the spot. The problem was the souvenirs. Everything was served on Styrofoam with plastic cutlery and paper napkins. The water, the coffee, juices, sodas, all had throw away cups. I sat and watch a steady line of folks rack up more souvenirs in 25 minutes than our entire family of five in two weeks. Besides the cooks and cashiers, the only other full time staff in the room were two and sometimes three trash collectors making sure that the 6 thrash cans never overflowed. This institution is certainly making some lasting imprint on human culture, I'm just not sure its the one they intended. This trip, which shook me out of my active collection mode and forced me back into the world of convenience, was really depressing.