The Art Outside of the Trellis House Elevator, Ranked by Floor
In which our desperate correspondent finds meaning where no one was meant to.
“What am I doing with my career?”
In the cold winter of 2015, my first in DC, I found that question was best confronted in front of a piece of art. The National Portrait Gallery and Smithsonian American Art Museum were just blocks away from the print-out press releases and off-brand Keurig cups of my first internship downtown. A lunch break produced time for personal interrogation with the likes of Toni Morrison, the women of the Supreme Court, or the entire United States itself.
As I changed jobs and locations, the question remained, and so did the practice. On Capitol Hill, there was extraordinary art from high schoolers, displayed in the tunnel that connects the Longworth House Office building to the Capitol, viewed by powerful legislators and tourists alike. On 14th street, there were contemporary exercises in unaffordability at the tucked-away Hemphill gallery (now downtown). In Georgetown, a short Jump Bike ride would yield real-life Monets — next to the piano in the parlor room,
of course — at the Kreeger.
Questioning my life in front of something beautiful has become an integral part of my process, and during these strange times, the need is omnipresent. So, under lockdown, I found the only art it’s safe for me to view. Therefore, I bring you:
THE ART OUTSIDE OF THE TRELLIS HOUSE ELEVATOR, RANKED BY FLOOR.
There is a lot of art in Trellis House, the apartment building where I live, but I chose a small subset, floors 2–6 (the parking floors beneath are not blessed with such grandeur). Each piece hangs outside the back elevator, an apt place to ponder a career that ascends and descends daily. They are ranked from worst to best.
6th Floor, Last Place
Lots of blank space. An explosion of broad, vivid strokes, blazing hot and alive! Is it the fire of a new idea? Probably not. Seems more like chaos. Everyday is a fire drill, screamed through an open office concept. You need to get out of here.
5th Floor, 4th Place
“Do you like brutalist architecture?” Not an interview question we want to hear. The minimalist geometry feels like an old idea from an old man who wants his news printed and collated by you, not Mike Allen. This feels like K Street. Don’t go to K Street.
2nd Floor, 3rd Place
Three colors, simple but substantial, working as a team to create — can it be? — a bleeding heart. It’s understaffed, but the three components put their hue-bris aside to create something bigger than themselves. Like a solid job at a non-profit.
4th Floor, 2nd Place (Runner-Up)
Oh, hello. What should we look at first, the poppy picnic blanket of green texture in the background, the floral-meets-iPhone-commercial gown, or THAT HAT? Wherever you choose, you’re in for a color snack. But the question remains, who is she? The answer: your new boss, who just invited you out for drinks — nay, cocktails — with the company card.
3rd Floor, 1st Place (WINNER!)
Really? This wins? It’s just the sk — oh wait, what’s that at the bottom? Is that just the tip of the Washington Monument? Damn. A local take on a tourist attraction. 554 feet 7 11/32 inches up, the famed obelisk feels like a great organization, permanently providing direction, but never micromanaging your attention. Under her, you get to be yourself, immerse in a smart and thoughtful culture, and appreciate some breathtaking history.
We are so lucky to work here.
