"The art of losing," wrote E. Bishop, "isn't hard to master," and boy am I feeling that now. The other day I lost two water bottles, my favorite and my backup, and I trudged from one room to the other looking for them, alternately lamenting my absentmindedness or blaming the house goblins for messing with my stuff. The backup bottle turned out to be in the kitchen cabinet, exactly where it is supposed to be, after Chad took it out of the dishwasher and put it away. The favorite bottle had rolled behind our bed, a casualty of Rosie's 5:30 AM wake-up call, which consists of her gently patting various objects around the bedroom with increasing vigor until one of them falls loudly enough to rouse us.

If I were to follow Bishop's lead, I would probably write about the far graver losses I'm feeling right now, but you don't need that. Instead here are some very cool things that were found this week:

• "A mural was etched into the wall, spanning its width. It had been hidden by a brick wall that covered it for decades. Semitic men and women walked the desert with animals. Some played instruments. In the center was a lone palm tree — a symbol of triumph in the Bible." A mural painted around the 1920s was discovered on the only wall left standing of the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center this week, which was otherwise destroyed by the Eaton fire. From the LA Times.
• A 2000-year-old Greek statue was found in Thessaloniki after it had been dumped in the garbage. In a way this is not so weird, since this city, along with the rest of Greece and Italy, sits atop landfill comprised of discarded relics: "Scores of antiquities were discovered during the construction of a new subway system in the city, which opened in November. The metro network took roughly two decades to complete as the tunneling exposed Greek burial sites, an early Christian basilica, a Roman-era thoroughfare and ancient water and drainage systems. Many of the artifacts are on display along the underground network." From the Washington Post.

We also found the Cornell boxes at the Art Institute.*

Three Things That Kept Me Going This Week

1. Finally, finally, finally, a US president commuted Leonard Peltier's life sentence. Yes, it should have been a pardon, but still. If you'd like to read more about this, I recommend the Wonkette's take.
2. Humor is one of the things, if not the only thing, that got me through Trump 1, and so far it is helping with Trump 2. I am a big fan of the Indignity newsletter and podcast for its extremely dry takedowns of mainstream media. This installment on the varying responses to Elon Musk's Nazi salute (Wait, was it a Nazi salute? Yes. Yes it was) made me laugh. "On the question of the gesture, maybe Musk sincerely chose to improvise a hand movement to merely tell the crowd he was thrusting his heart out toward them, violently, like a triumphant, goose-stepping jackboot." Unfortunately this installment seems to be only for paying subscribers! Still, I recommend it if you're into this kind of thing.
3. I just finished A Proud Taste for Scarlet and Miniver, E.L. Konigsburg's 1973 book about Eleanor of Aquitaine. I love a good historical novel set in the Middle Ages (think Lauren Groff's Matrix, which also features Eleanor of Aquitaine, or Karen Cushman's Catherine, Called Birdy). I know this is supposed to be a book for young adults, but I found it very appealing. And the medieval manuscript–style illustrations, which were drawn by Konigsburg, are lovely.

Til next week, then,

Claire

*Renzo Piano whinging warning!! Sorry, I can't help myself: Am I the only one who feels like the layout of the modern collection at the Art Institute feels like an afterthought, like at the last minute the director realized that, oh, yeah, we have those post-1945 paintings, too, so let's just jam them all together on a small floor at the top of the building that is only reachable by two slow elevators or by one of Renzo Piano's appallingly steep and uncomfortable staircases? (Why does Piano loathe staircases? At the Whitney Museum, patrons are chucked from the elevator into the gallery in a manner that seems designed to disorient, like a casino. Staircases provide transitions, time to absorb and prepare for the next thing.) The Cornell boxes are included in the museum's exceptional collection of "Surrealist" art, a category far too baggy to usefully describe the nature of the works within it. This collection is set to the side, easily missed, which is a crying shame because it contains so many gems. The Museum of Modern Art in New York also tucks surrealism away in a side passage, in the way one might hide the books (self-help, young adult novels) one truly enjoys when company comes over, and instead puts out impressive titles that you buy because you feel like you should read them but ultimately never do. Not that I ever do this though, no, never.

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