A Murder of Crows
A Short Story
Author's note: When I first visited the National Gallery of Art in the early 1980's I had this vivid vision of the beginning of a movie that begins in the Concourse between the original Gallery and the East Wing. I don't think I'll ever get to make the movie and decided to turn it into a short story.
Rik van Hemmen
The Washington DC Mall sharply contradicts the political and social cesspool conditions in the rest of the District. People from all over the world visit the Mall and are enveloped in the hope and progress of the American Experiment.
In the full daytime it bustles and there is a palpable sense of wonder. It is a semi rational and more real Disneyland.
Like the country itself, the Mall evolved.
In its early days it was less confident and relied on neo classicism for its architectural language. It measured its success in capturing a European esthetic even in the art it displayed in the National Gallery.
The country’s general post war success provided it with a greater level of confidence. This enabled the construction of the Air and Space Museum, which opened in 1976 and to this day is the Mall’s most popular museum. The museum's displays celebrate the country's astonishing achievements in technology and the building itself confidently ignored neo classicism.
In 1978 that level of confidence continued and the rather dull neoclassical National Gallery of Art was expanded with a section that focused on modern art. The design of the expansion had been awarded to I. M. Pei, a truly modern American architect. His design sharply contrasted with the Gallery of Art and is positioned to the East of the Gallery, along the Mall and closer to the Capital.
The building is a combination of triangles or rather prisms and trapezoids, and glass. It is stark and bold and clad in stone that matches the older Gallery. Against a darker sky it feels intimidating and exudes a certain level of doom, but in the sun, it is nearly white and uplifting and inviting.
Looking up, its sharp edges slash against the sky, its linearity occasionally interrupted by a murder of crows that tends to roost at the upper edges of these prisms.
To those who bother to study such things, these murders both enhance and detract from the building's design. The effect is equally striking against a grey sky, or a bright blue sky. However, to most, it remains unnoticed.
The modern wing, generally called the East Wing, and the original gallery are separated by a street that cuts across to the Mall itself. I.M. Pei, who so brilliantly redesigned the access to the Louvre, avoided this interference by connecting the two buildings with a tunnel.
The tunnel may be the loveliest component of the combined complex, it is even called the Concourse instead of just the tunnel. It has prismatic skylights and a huge window about 60 feet long and 15 feet high from floor to ceiling that faces an angled waterfall over which a steady tumble of water descends to the lower sill of the window.
In front of the lower sill there are planters flush with the floor that provide a more natural touch to the entire design. The water collects just below the floor level sill and is pumped back to the street level in a never ending cycle. Just like the entire building, it is very linear but there are no square angles in the waterfall design. To the left it is almost vertical and to the right the water flows down at a 45 degree angle. In leaning away from the window, the waterfall provides an additional view of the sky and thereby creates a space that visitors no longer readily recognize as a tunnel. The cafeteria in the Concourse even invites visitors to linger.
Above the Concourse, at the street level, there is a cobble stone plaza with a row of fountains. The fountain water flows for a short distance at street level and then disappears into the prismatic water fall opening in the ground. The opening is protected by a low wall on one side and a low stainless steel railing between the fountains and the hole in the ground.
All of it is rather unobtrusive and thousands of people will walk by and never understand the simple elegance of the design.
Early in the morning the Mall is quiet. In the summer, after sunrise and before rush hour, the mall belongs to birds and joggers.
And to cleaning crews on the Mall and inside the buildings.
Some are friendly with each other and prefer to work as teams. Some wear headphones and work alone while they listen to music.
Those who have done this work for decades have routines that no longer vary. Frieda has worked the cafeteria and the tunnel since the day it opened. She works alone. Her cart has been with her for decades. Everything has its place on it and she accepts the cart’s squeaky wheel that developed a decade or so ago. It mimics her own general decline and makes her wonder how much longer she can manage her job with the pain from her advancing arthritis.
Often the first daylight she sees is through the waterfall window. The light helps her in cleaning the handprints that inevitably accumulate on the glass.
Rather than for visual effect, I.M. Pei may have designed the planters to separate greasy hands from the window. However, human behavior and architectural design are a difficult match at best, and kids tend to wander into the planter and rest their hands against the glass.
While it bothers her back, Frieda does not really mind cleaning the small and low handprints. It is early morning evidence of the previous day’s joy.
Less joyfully the planter also ends up being the receptacle of food wrappers left by uncaring visitors.
Appearing from the darker part of the tunnel that is beneath the street, Frieda and her cart approached the right side of the window where the waterfall angles down to the sill. She does not use headphones and only the waterfall and the cart make any sound. She sees a food wrapper right at the beginning of the planter and leans down to pick it up with her right hand.
She then mentally prepares herself for the more difficult task of straightening herself up. She places her left hand on her back, thereby turning slightly to her right.
That made her come face to face with a bearded man.
His beard was wet and his long hair was streaked around his face. His face was pressed hard against the opposite side of the glass, flattening his cheek.
His head was sharply turned up and his chest and legs rested on the angled waterfall surface. One arm was hidden in the collection trough, the other arm was twisted onto the back of his body. His legs were higher on the waterfall, splayed, like a frog’s legs disappearing into the deeper part of a pond.
Frieda straightened herself. For a few seconds she stared at the man.
His body created an unintended new waterfall design, spraying up against the window, and tumbling over the various parts of the offending shape in I. M. Pei’s carefully conceived concept.
Frieda turned and half ran back into the tunnel a few yards. She then stopped, and took out her cell phone.
A police car pulled up to the fountains. The siren stopped, but the the lights remained on.
Two police officers came out and walked over to the waterfall opening. They looked down into it from various angles. One officer stepped into the shallow water that drained into the fountain, and then paused. He exchanged a few words with the other officer who spoke into his radio.
A few more seconds passed and the first officer stepped over the railing and crawled down the incline of the waterfall, water rushing over him.
He examined the body and managed to climb back up.
The soaked officer turned to the other officer and pointed to a shopping cart filled with typical homeless possessions standing at the far end of fountains.
A few minutes later the fountains turned off, and an ambulance appeared.
An unmarked car and another squad car arrived. The soaked officer entered his car and left, leaving his partner behind. A plainclothes policeman appeared from the unmarked car.
There were no pedestrians and the plaza remained empty except for the police and ambulance. No sirens, the only noise an occasional passing car.
A murder was lined up on the upper edge of the East Wing looking down onto the plaza and into the hole. The murder was black on the white of the building against a now clear and blue sky. A murder curious about the unusual activity below.
The ambulance crew used a rope to rig a Stokes litter down into the hole and strapped the body on it.
With the assistance of the police officers pulling on the rope, the body emerged from the hole and was loaded into the ambulance.
The ambulance left silently. The uniformed police left too.
The detective talked on his phone, put it away and walked over to the shopping cart. He picked through the content half heartedly and pulled out his phone again to make a short call.
Looking down, examining the ground, he walked around the area for a few minutes. He looked up along the sharp edges of the East Wing as he walked towards his car.
The murder on top of the East Wing was losing interest. When it saw the detective look up, it took flight in a clear blue sky. To the murder, the Mall, now slowly filling with visitors, held more promise.
In the full daytime it bustles and there is a palpable sense of wonder. It is a semi rational and more real Disneyland.
Like the country itself, the Mall evolved.
In its early days it was less confident and relied on neo classicism for its architectural language. It measured its success in capturing a European esthetic even in the art it displayed in the National Gallery.
The country’s general post war success provided it with a greater level of confidence. This enabled the construction of the Air and Space Museum, which opened in 1976 and to this day is the Mall’s most popular museum. The museum's displays celebrate the country's astonishing achievements in technology and the building itself confidently ignored neo classicism.
In 1978 that level of confidence continued and the rather dull neoclassical National Gallery of Art was expanded with a section that focused on modern art. The design of the expansion had been awarded to I. M. Pei, a truly modern American architect. His design sharply contrasted with the Gallery of Art and is positioned to the East of the Gallery, along the Mall and closer to the Capital.
The building is a combination of triangles or rather prisms and trapezoids, and glass. It is stark and bold and clad in stone that matches the older Gallery. Against a darker sky it feels intimidating and exudes a certain level of doom, but in the sun, it is nearly white and uplifting and inviting.
Looking up, its sharp edges slash against the sky, its linearity occasionally interrupted by a murder of crows that tends to roost at the upper edges of these prisms.
To those who bother to study such things, these murders both enhance and detract from the building's design. The effect is equally striking against a grey sky, or a bright blue sky. However, to most, it remains unnoticed.
The modern wing, generally called the East Wing, and the original gallery are separated by a street that cuts across to the Mall itself. I.M. Pei, who so brilliantly redesigned the access to the Louvre, avoided this interference by connecting the two buildings with a tunnel.
The tunnel may be the loveliest component of the combined complex, it is even called the Concourse instead of just the tunnel. It has prismatic skylights and a huge window about 60 feet long and 15 feet high from floor to ceiling that faces an angled waterfall over which a steady tumble of water descends to the lower sill of the window.
In front of the lower sill there are planters flush with the floor that provide a more natural touch to the entire design. The water collects just below the floor level sill and is pumped back to the street level in a never ending cycle. Just like the entire building, it is very linear but there are no square angles in the waterfall design. To the left it is almost vertical and to the right the water flows down at a 45 degree angle. In leaning away from the window, the waterfall provides an additional view of the sky and thereby creates a space that visitors no longer readily recognize as a tunnel. The cafeteria in the Concourse even invites visitors to linger.
Above the Concourse, at the street level, there is a cobble stone plaza with a row of fountains. The fountain water flows for a short distance at street level and then disappears into the prismatic water fall opening in the ground. The opening is protected by a low wall on one side and a low stainless steel railing between the fountains and the hole in the ground.
All of it is rather unobtrusive and thousands of people will walk by and never understand the simple elegance of the design.
Early in the morning the Mall is quiet. In the summer, after sunrise and before rush hour, the mall belongs to birds and joggers.
And to cleaning crews on the Mall and inside the buildings.
Some are friendly with each other and prefer to work as teams. Some wear headphones and work alone while they listen to music.
Those who have done this work for decades have routines that no longer vary. Frieda has worked the cafeteria and the tunnel since the day it opened. She works alone. Her cart has been with her for decades. Everything has its place on it and she accepts the cart’s squeaky wheel that developed a decade or so ago. It mimics her own general decline and makes her wonder how much longer she can manage her job with the pain from her advancing arthritis.
Often the first daylight she sees is through the waterfall window. The light helps her in cleaning the handprints that inevitably accumulate on the glass.
Rather than for visual effect, I.M. Pei may have designed the planters to separate greasy hands from the window. However, human behavior and architectural design are a difficult match at best, and kids tend to wander into the planter and rest their hands against the glass.
While it bothers her back, Frieda does not really mind cleaning the small and low handprints. It is early morning evidence of the previous day’s joy.
Less joyfully the planter also ends up being the receptacle of food wrappers left by uncaring visitors.
Appearing from the darker part of the tunnel that is beneath the street, Frieda and her cart approached the right side of the window where the waterfall angles down to the sill. She does not use headphones and only the waterfall and the cart make any sound. She sees a food wrapper right at the beginning of the planter and leans down to pick it up with her right hand.
She then mentally prepares herself for the more difficult task of straightening herself up. She places her left hand on her back, thereby turning slightly to her right.
That made her come face to face with a bearded man.
His beard was wet and his long hair was streaked around his face. His face was pressed hard against the opposite side of the glass, flattening his cheek.
His head was sharply turned up and his chest and legs rested on the angled waterfall surface. One arm was hidden in the collection trough, the other arm was twisted onto the back of his body. His legs were higher on the waterfall, splayed, like a frog’s legs disappearing into the deeper part of a pond.
Frieda straightened herself. For a few seconds she stared at the man.
His body created an unintended new waterfall design, spraying up against the window, and tumbling over the various parts of the offending shape in I. M. Pei’s carefully conceived concept.
Frieda turned and half ran back into the tunnel a few yards. She then stopped, and took out her cell phone.
A police car pulled up to the fountains. The siren stopped, but the the lights remained on.
Two police officers came out and walked over to the waterfall opening. They looked down into it from various angles. One officer stepped into the shallow water that drained into the fountain, and then paused. He exchanged a few words with the other officer who spoke into his radio.
A few more seconds passed and the first officer stepped over the railing and crawled down the incline of the waterfall, water rushing over him.
He examined the body and managed to climb back up.
The soaked officer turned to the other officer and pointed to a shopping cart filled with typical homeless possessions standing at the far end of fountains.
A few minutes later the fountains turned off, and an ambulance appeared.
An unmarked car and another squad car arrived. The soaked officer entered his car and left, leaving his partner behind. A plainclothes policeman appeared from the unmarked car.
There were no pedestrians and the plaza remained empty except for the police and ambulance. No sirens, the only noise an occasional passing car.
A murder was lined up on the upper edge of the East Wing looking down onto the plaza and into the hole. The murder was black on the white of the building against a now clear and blue sky. A murder curious about the unusual activity below.
The ambulance crew used a rope to rig a Stokes litter down into the hole and strapped the body on it.
With the assistance of the police officers pulling on the rope, the body emerged from the hole and was loaded into the ambulance.
The ambulance left silently. The uniformed police left too.
The detective talked on his phone, put it away and walked over to the shopping cart. He picked through the content half heartedly and pulled out his phone again to make a short call.
Looking down, examining the ground, he walked around the area for a few minutes. He looked up along the sharp edges of the East Wing as he walked towards his car.
The murder on top of the East Wing was losing interest. When it saw the detective look up, it took flight in a clear blue sky. To the murder, the Mall, now slowly filling with visitors, held more promise.