The Time Travelling Art Historian

The Quest



He first revealed himself to me at the Museum of Modern Art at the foot of the Bird in Space display. Five years ago, a man stood inside the museum gazing hard at the bronze figure unaware of those around him.



“Constantine Brancusi (God rest him), was a simple genius.” He paused tapping a few keys on his iPod. With a concerned expression on his face, he turned and said evenly. “Simple in the fact that he saw the elegance in simple, almost abstracted forms of intellectual art . Unlike other artists who were full of contrasting splashes of color, Constantine saw grace and elegance in simple sleek forms.” He smiled and tapped his iPod again.  “This piece” He gestured to the bird. “Will sell at auction next month for $27.5 million dollars. An impressive amount of money for a child born of paupers.” He tugged at the bottom of his leather bomber jacket, put away his iPod, and paused to gaze at the bird again. His abrupt conversation caught me off guard. He was speaking to me yet not talking to me. He sounded like an excerpt from an encyclopedia.

“How do you know so much about this artist?” I said, gathering nerve. He folded his arms into chicken wings and gave a loud yawn as he stretched his arms skyward. When he finished, he checked his watch, his blue eyes looked tired and the stubble looked about 5 o’clock.

“3:58PM” I responded, stifling a yawn.

“I suppose I have time for some coffee and conversation before the next departure.”

He followed me across the street to a local coffee shop where he tried to explain something about the time differential and how things happened to cause lack of sleep. He ordered a six-shot espresso and a glass of ice water and repeated his yawn stretch. I waited uncomfortably for my black-eye and watched him fumble over his iPod again.

“Tall black-eye” the server said. “Is that the new iPod?” The server asked pointing to the iPod held once again by this stranger. “It must be a prototype – the new one has the wheel. That one looks like it has a touch screen.  Very cool!” he said turning back to tend to the coffee.

I collected my cup and sat down at a table with the stranger. He seemed not to notice me as his attention once again focused in on his iPod. Without warning, he began

“Constantine Brancusi created Bird in Space in a series of sculptures first created in 1923. Roman born, his earliest training was from his anatomy teacher who encouraged young Constantine to explore his artistic aspirations.” Without looking up, he grabbed his coffee and drank. After a few seconds, his face puckered as if swallowing whisky. This drama continued for a few seconds while he struggled to contain himself. I did not think that coffee was that bad. Strong, but I like strong coffee. Well, since my old Navy days, strong coffee was the norm. Six shots of straight espresso would turn any man’s face sour. This public display of disgust over the coffee a bit beyond normal. I felt very uncomfortable as all the eyes in the coffee shop where upon us. Then he straightened, looked up at everyone, and raised his cup as if to make a toast.

“THAT’S! Darn good coffee!”  Many people including the bar staff raised glasses and cheered.

“To many, art is purely in the eye of the beholder. Some walk the earth blind to most, others are too grounded in science that the eye turns from fashion and form to function and technical grace - while still others see the arts in all its grandiose forms. A crumpled piece of paper, a wad of chewing gum stuck to a shoe or shadows casting long against the sunset.  These captured forms of art express the best and worst about society. Constantine knew that when he created the bird. Despite the lingering effects of World War I, he believed that the salvation of society rested in the arts – not governments, not militaries, but arts. This message transcending through the age of war, plague, and famine is the reason why it will sell for such. “ The iPod emitted a series of beeps. He spoke more about the number of pieces created. Some birds made from marble and others from bronze.

“You asked me…” I interrupted. “About late Middle Age art?” The facial expression froze. A light appeared in his eyes as if he just remembered something.

“Thank you…I almost forgot why I am here.” He smiled again, tapped his iPod once again, and drank a bit more of his coffee. “I am looking for A Unicorn in Captivity.” He paused to watch the (lack) reaction in my face. “Er…I meant The Unicorn in Captivity.” Now, I was worried. Did he put something in his coffee that I needed to be warned about? He smiled at my bad poker face. This guy was a loon and I was stuck at a table talking to someone who believes in unicorns. He smiled again.

“I can see from your expression and rise in breathing rate that you take me for…what word did you use…Loon?” He smiled some more.

Reactively, I began to stand and head for the exit.  He stopped me with a simple raise of his finger.

“What I am looking for specifically, are three artifacts. 1. The Bird of Space, 2. The Unicorn in Captivity and 3. The Noh Mask. Each of these artifacts contains a clue that I need to complete my assignment. However, I do not have a lot of time tonight. I do know where the artifacts will be at a given time, but not at this time. Do me a favor and watch for these artifacts and when you find them, I will find you.” His iPod beeped again at which time he looked at the face and softened. “I must use the restroom. Please find these artifacts and I will see you soon.” He touched the palm of my hand with a finger and excused himself to the bathroom.

The Search

“Sir, we are closing now.” The coffee shop clerk said, shaking my shoulder. Shocked, I looked at my watch. The sun had set and it was dark outside. The stranger was gone – even his coffee cup was empty.

For weeks, I was desperately confused over my encounter with the stranger. When I thought, it was unreal or a dream, the area that he touched on my hand heated a little – sometimes it burned.

After some careful research, The Unicorn in Captivity was a tapestry from the Late Middle Ages was an ornately woven tapestry. To me, it appeared as if it were once one image made into seven. This was a disaster, how can I track down seven tapestries. Some of which might not be displayed at the museums. The library provided me with high-resolution photographs of all seven tapestries where I was able to analyze each for the clue the stranger referred to. It was no secret that most girls love unicorns. How they would turn all Gah over a picture of a unicorn. The library book I found mentioned something about the unicorn was a symbol of fertility. That explains the horn! The tapestry shows the unicorn sitting on the ground behind a small fence. If it were a real unicorn (or horse), the creature could easily vault the fence and become free of captivity. The book mentioned that to, and continued to read on how the unicorn might be happy and content behind a fence. Honestly, the animal looked more like a tamed and well-trained dog than a unicorn – except for that enormous horn.

Reading from the book. The seven unicorn tapestries are believed to have been created between 1495 and 1505. Commissioned by an unknown benefactor, these tapestries were kept in the La Rochefouauld family in the France until were sold to John D Rockefeller who later donated them to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1935.

Historically, angry peasants stole these tapestries during the French Revolution in 1789. These tapestries did not return to the La Rochefouauld family until 1855. During those lost years, these peasants used them to cover potatoes and wrap trees in the winter.

In 1998 preservation efforts were made to protect these tapestries.

The book continued with the history of the tapestries, the preservation efforts, and the discovery that the tapestry was the same on both sides and with the backing removed, revealed its original color and splendor. That much, I did not know. What I did know about tapestries was that in the Late Middle Ages, they were more valuable than gold. Tapestries were hung on the walls to keep absorb moisture in the night air only to release it during the heat of the day. To make a tapestry, it would take a team of weavers more than a year to complete, working only by daylight to preserve the richness of color. Those who commissioned their services equally valued artisans skilled in the art of tapestry. Tapestries told a story. The unicorn tapestries, when assembled together, told an epic story. Many people of the Late Middle Ages saw a lot of symbolism relating to Jesus Christ in the tapestries. My guess is that the owners of the tapestries told that story to protect them from the wrath of the church in its quest to stamp out Paganism.

The other artifact the stranger spoke of was the Go, do er…ah Noh Mask. This one was easier to find than all those tapestries. I remember from high school drama that these masks (never remembered the name). However, a search at the university library refreshed my memory. The Noh or Hogaku is a form of Japanese musical drama practised since the 14th century. All of the main characters are masked with men playing as women, demons, and animals. What makes Noh unique amongst the stage arts is that the actors and musicians never rehearse their parts as a troop. Instead, the songs and acts are practised independently under the supervision of a schoolmaster. The performance tempo is not set by the actors, but by the interaction between the actors working independently. Noh plays are very minimalistic and accompanied by elaborate masks and costumes. Many acts have Buddhist influences and reflect actual historical events.

There was a set on display at the museum. Why didn’t the stranger know this? The museum had kept that exhibit up year round.

Returning to the coffee shop where I had shared a cup with the stranger weeks earlier, I was beginning to doubt the encounter. Had it not been for the coffee clerk showing off his new 20GB iPod, I would have left the whole matter drop.

So I waited a week.

Then a month.

Then two

Then six.

A year.

Life was beginning to change for me.  Working my way through college and earning my environmental science degree – an opportunity to work outdoors. Less and less, I kept my hope that the stranger would reappear. The pain on my hand disappeared and life finally returned to normal.

Until it happened again.

The Return

Coldness seeped into New York that day. A bone chilling, stinging, miserable coldness that penetrated every measure used to keep it at bay. The museum was offering free tours; at least the museum is heated. I entered the museum that day just after breakfast. New exhibits were up and I found myself looking for that old bronze Bird in Space. A small crowd had gathered around many of the exhibits.

“…And we are walking…were walking…” the tour guides voice echoed. The crowd thinned and a familiar figure stood facing the marble copy of the Bird in Space.

“I think I like the bronze copy better than marble. While the texture is more appealing to some, I like the fluidity of the bronze better.  Don’t you?” It was the stranger. Dressed like I remembered him – five years ago. No…wait. He was dressed exactly like I remember him.

“Don’t you have some home work to turn into me?” He said fingering what was then an iPod, but looked more like an iPhone. Confused, I missed him repeating his question.

“Oh” I said, lamely. The stranger reached over and touched the spot on my palm again. The spot on my hand illuminated a little then faded.

“Ah!” he said to his iPhone. “I see that you were successful in your quest.” He said tapping. “I knew I should have come back sooner. But I had doubts as so many…well. Lets get coffee.” The stranger, dressed in the exact same clothes. His jacket, pants, shirt – all the same. Even that sugar stain on the arm of this jacket was the same.

“I see that you don’t understand. Lets get coffee and I will explain.” He smiled gesturing me towards the museums exit.

The wind chill picked up. Where this morning, it felt like thousands of needles piercing the skin, now felt like daggers. I could not believe that I was such an idiot to go with the stranger once again.

Tucking my gloved hands in the armpits of my jacket, I walked slowly towards the coffee shop. The stranger however, appeared as if he was about to break into a sweat.

Crossing the threshold of the coffee shop, he immediately ordered espresso on ice. The clerk – a different clerk this time, had a puzzled look on her face as she totalled up the sale. My standard black-eye coffee appeared as soon as I reached the counter.

Sitting by the door, the stranger removed his jacket and dressed it neatly behind the chair.

“How is it that you are not cold?” I asked cradling my cup with both hands. The stranger looked up and finally noticed the shivering from the shop patrons.

“Oh, I am so sorry, let me adjust the temperature here.” Reaching back into his jacket, he retrieved his iPhone, tapped it a few times and drew a circle on the screen.

The chill edged away. People slowly relaxed from shivering and began to engage in conversation. A few minutes later, most of the patrons had removed their jackets.

New arrivals to the shop noticed that raised temperature and crowded into the shop.

“I am the Time Travelling Art Historian.” He said as matter of fact and held out his hand. Unsure of the sanity of the stranger, I neglected to return the handshake.

“I am here to retire. But I needed information to find my way to a comfortable time that I can live out my remaining years unhindered and unblocked by the unpleasant things in life.” I remember my previous reaction to the stranger, flee, run or get way. I thought before…

“That I was a loon, yeah – I know. It would help matters if you did not think of me as crazy.” The stranger said – once again shocking me to my senses.

With a tap of his iPhone, the ambient background noise faded so that it was only the two of us speaking.

“I am the Time Travelling Art Historian. I skip around time to collect information on various artifacts that have passed throughout history. Some works of art that would otherwise be lost to humankind are evacuated to the Grand World Museum. Others just need some gaps of history filled in. For this piece” he tapped his iPhone again revealing the unicorn tapestry in mid-air between us. “We needed to find the original cartoon template and discover who the art was commissioned for. The information you collected here.” He pointed to the spot on my palm. “Will help us find the commissioner and help use preserve it during what turns out to be very cold winters in 18th century France.

I could not believe my ears! Or for that matter, my eyes. To the best of my knowledge technology…

“Of this kind does not exist yet…yeah again, I know.” The stranger completed my thoughts through his words.

“The Bird in Space sculptures contain a harmonic frequency that allows us to re-orient ourselves thought the time stream. A compass if you will. Several artifacts serve as this purpose. Some are easier to access than others.”

Still shocked by what I was witnessing, the sudden appearance of the stranger, the temperature change, the spot on my palm, the floating sphere of the tapestries, the sound all too much. I watched the stranger smile for a minute as he drank in his iced coffee. No dramatic act this time, just a smile and a drink of coffee. Taking a deep breath, I quieted my mind. Pushing all the thoughts back, I took a drink of coffee and asked.

“Okay, lets say that you are for real. What do you want from me?”

Once again he smiled. “What I want from you, young boy is that you must know why it is so important not only know art, but to appreciate the fact that it is our only surviving human record. Some in your academia know this already and spend their lives deciphering its meaning. Others in your society take for granted the efforts of unknown artists and the strife they experienced to freely express the joys and sorrows of life.” He handed his iPhone to me and continued. “That little piece of technology, as clever as it is, would not have been possible without the cave drawings found in France, Belgium, and Canada. Without art, you don’t have science. It’s my job to protect and preserve art but we time travellers are not always as smart as we seem and occasionally need help.”

This iPhone was amazing. It weighed very little, two or three ounces maybe. Looked like the standard iPhone with a few additional features. The stranger reached over and pulled it from my hands.

“The Noh Mask sitting in that museum is actually the oldest known in existence. Carbon dating will show that is actually from the 11th century. Three hundred years outside the traditional beginnings of the play.” He smiled again finishing his coffee.

“I wanted to preserve it before it was cracked.” He said casually.

Still amazed by the iPhone, I felt myself starting to believe the stranger. He certainly had a great ethic for wanting to preserve art, but this whole time travelling thing is not possible. Solid matter cannot pass…

“Through the barrier of time, yes we heard that science fiction before. It’s much too complicated to explain verbally. Let me do it this way” He said tapping his iPhone again. “Hold out your left hand”

Obediently, I held out my left hand. He touched it in the manner done previously and to the other hand and all light faded from the room.

Minutes later, I awoke in my dingy apartment – the cold that once occupied my flat had fled. In its place was the warmth of summer.

“That took longer than I thought” The stranger said bringing over a teapot, cups and cookies.

Clean shaven, he work a polo shirt and khaki shorts. The effect removed twenty years from his appearance.

“What happened?” I said sitting up from the couch.

“I retired is what happened.” He paused pouring the tea. “I transferred the knowledge app to your hand. In a month or so, you will know all that I know and will be free to move out the continuum. Rules, regulations and guides are available on the device you call the iPhone – welcome to the guild of time travellers.”



…and that is how I first met the stranger. I never learned his name and he left my apartment soon after I was able to use the device.

I would love to stay and tell you more, but I have a collection of literature that I have to save from Hitler’s bonfires.

**Poof**