The Importance of Seeing (and Touching) the Past: A Visit to the Met

There was something truly authentic about sitting in the Morgan Library’s study room, gazing curiously about at its gold foil border details, running my fingers across the familiar feel of the antique Persian rug upon which I kneeled, and sneaking an occasional glance towards the window, which revealed the cold, dreary world outside. The atmosphere took me away from the New York that I know, and into a sort of old-world secret society of writers. Not to mention, curator Dr. Declan Kiely’s British witticisms further added to the sense that I was a tourist in a suddenly foreign space.
Thus far, I have found that exploring different institutions throughout New York has sprung my inquisitiveness in unique ways, both visually and orally. Listening to quirky tidbits about the conversations and habits of writers like Oscar Wilde, Henry James and Edgar Allen Poe provided insight into how a writer’s lifestyle is reflected in his work. The group of featured artists especially found common interest in Washington Square Park throughout various decades, and it is fascinating to examine the very different impressions their environment left on their works.
I consider myself to be a writer, and so this trip was especially meaningful to me, as I walked away from the event with a sense of connectedness to my great predecessors and the different New Yorks they experienced. Seeing the crinkled letters, scrolls and manuscripts solidified the experience. It reminded me of my studies last year on Walt Whitman and how presentation, spacing, odd spelling and typeface were all significant, well thought-out components of Leaves of Grass. Kiely’s discussion of the value behind Poe’s leather-bound manuscript also exemplified that the publishing process was once infinitely more personalized and reflective of the writer’s style, rather than that of his representative publishing company as it is today.
After the talk, I took the time to investigate other collections at the Library including Irving Penn’s portraits of artists and writers like Tennessee Williams and Salvador Dali, and doodles and letters by Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac. All this was very cool to see in person since it offered a link to these creators’ inner minds at specific moments, which articles and pictures online certainly could not have captured. Seeing these manuscripts allowed me to become engaged on a whole new level that focused on a more personal, intimate look at sources of inspiration, one that previously, I had generally dismissed as unnecessary and unremarkable. Now I am confident that I will use such archived documents in the future as useful tools of research and muse.
For an aspiring writer and avid reader, holding “The Raven” in my hands, scanning Poe’s original, fluid handwriting, and feeling the light weight of so monumental a work, is something I’ll remember for the rest of my life…. especially when I slyly slid my finger inside the protective slip, and brushed it across Poe’s signature for an extra spark of inspiration via osmosis. Of course, I couldn’t resist!