My taxi ride from the Newark train station to the Newark Museum was most unusual. Sitting at a light, a white BMW pulled up to the right of us. My cabbie jumped out and handed the driver, a portly gray-haired man wearing a gold chain with a tiny cross dangling from it, a wad of bills, while thanking him by name. The light was long enough that the man had a chance to look it over and hand a $100 bill back saying "I don't know if this one is good." My cabbie spent the rest of the ride holding the bill up to light, squinting at it, mumbling in his African accent that he didn't know how to tell if it was counterfeit or not. I found myself wondering if it wasn't "good" if he would owe the man another $100? Just what was the back story?
Then I entered an environment that has an extraordinary collection of Tibetan Art - an oasis in the midst of poverty and crime. The lighting was dim, only flicking on when movement censors detected someone there. The altar below is a sacred space designed in the traditional manor by a Tibetan artist in residence, 1989-1990. His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama, performed a consecration ceremony for the Altar on September 23, 1990, which was his third visit to the Newark Museum.
A sense of reverence and calm pervaded the galleries which even the children seemed to sense.
There was a play area with a child-size tent. I wish I could have crawled inside myself!
A feeling infused the Tibetan Galleries that was different from any of the many other galleries. Delicately climate controlled, so well conserved and documented, the Newark Museum is an important part of Tibet's cultural diaspora. Yet another reason I fell in love with the Newark Museum!
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