I’m sitting in a nest. It’s not made out of twigs and twine, but rather a mesh of rope and strips of brightly colored cloth.
Far below me, an egg is being placed in a basket and hoisted up on a pulley. Reaching into the basket, I take the egg and climb out of the nest, on my way to deliver it down a chute.
How did I get here? I climbed, of course, up a rope ladder, and shimmied my way along a narrow parapet into the safety of the rope nest.
It’s just another day in Noah’s Ark, an innovative new exhibit at the Skirball Cultural Center in Los Angeles that recently opened after five years in the making.
It’s almost impossible to describe the sensory wonders that await you in Noah’s Ark; it truly has to be seen to be believed. The 8,000-square-foot gallery is divided into four rooms: The first introduces the animals, the second depicts the building of the ark and the flood, the third (the Arkade) stresses the importance of feeding and taking care of animals, and the fourth allows children to draw and color at the end of their visit.
Ostensibly, the exhibit depicts the story of the Great Flood from Genesis, but it also emphasizes the more universal aspects of the story and its importance today — the oh-so-trendy environmental “message.”
The purpose of each room isn’t made explicitly clear; there are no instructions and few signs. It’s questionable how much of the concept kids will really understand — it’s more of a lesson in metaphor than a true learning experience — but it’s hard to quibble when you see the giddy children running around, taking in the sights and sounds. Even if they don’t really “get it,” it’s a fabulous sight.
This is the ultimate playground, filled with things that move, make noise and feel nice to the touch.
Everything operates at a child’s level: The levers and wheels that turn various objects are all positioned just a few inches off the ground, so that even the smallest toddlers can reach them.
The main focus of the exhibit is the animals. Almost all are made out of recycled materials: a ram made of mop heads and studded belts, flamingos with black combs for wings and bodies made of pink leather purses and spools of pink thread. Unlike most museums, which have strict “hands-off” policies, visitors are actually encouraged to touch the works of art (while the
animals aren’t really cute and cuddly, a staggering number of stuffed puppets are available to fill the plushy void).
At every turn there’s something to see or do — so much, that you’re almost guaranteed to miss something. In a dark, lonely corner, I noticed some baskets filled with rubber ducks and plastic-egg maracas. A docent showed a child how she could pull measuring-tape “silk” out
of a wooden spider, something I doubt many people would have noticed on their own.
The amount of detail is incredible. Everything in the exhibit — from the colorful cloth strips adorning the Arkade to the plush fruits and veggies that peel open to reveal their innards — seems to have been meticulously and deliberately chosen. Some of it seems almost too deliberate: You can practically see the nervous, clipboard-bearing adults taking notes on the reactions of oblivious children.
But the center needn’t worry; kids will love this place for its tactile joys, and adults will appreciate its more esoteric pleasures.
When I was there, at least a half-dozen Skirball employees in Noah’s Ark aprons were milling around the galleries, and their enthusiasm was palpable. Some played with animal puppets, others helped children explore. One brave docent scattered plastic animal droppings around the floor of the Arkade for the kids to clean up with brooms.
At one point, an enthusiastic woman named Dina gathered the children into the Arkade to tell them a story, which turned out to be a flood tale from ancient China. There are, Dina said, more than 500 flood stories from around the world, and I assume different tours get to hear different stories.
It’s all nicely multicultural. But unless you paid attention to the Israeli archaeology exhibit you passed on your way to Noah’s Ark, you’d barely know Skirball was a Jewish museum.
I walked out of Noah’s Ark into the outdoor amphitheater (which hosts world musicians, dancers and storytellers on weekends) feeling a bit overwhelmed. Colors and textures whirled in my mind as I blinked back the early afternoon sun.
The exhibit is beautiful, but if anything, it tries a little too hard. At the end of the day, kids just want to play — and, thankfully, Noah’s Ark gives them plenty of room to do so. For kids of all ages with a sense of wonder and imagination, it’s well worth the trip.
Noah’s Ark is open Tuesday-Friday from noon-5 p.m., and Saturday and Sunday from 10 a.m.-5 p.m. at the Skirball Cultural Center, 2701 N. Sepulveda Blvd., Los Angeles. Tickets cost up to $10 and include admission to the rest of the exhibits. Information: (310) 440-4500 or www.skirball.org.