Setting sail with Noah

Inside the ark at the Skirball Cutural Center's interactive children's exhibit.

The Skirball Cultual Center has taken the "interactive" concept to new heights.

Usually, a museum considers an exhibit interactive if you have to pull out a drawer to see an answer, or open a cupboard for a different view, maybe listen in on a phone conversation. But in the wildly popular Noah's Ark exhibit, kids can create the entire story for themselves.

Charlotte and Auntie Lynn create lightning
 in a tube. Next to it they can flood a tank
to see the ark rise and float.

First, they can create the storm: turn a handle fast enough to make leaves fly, make it rain, puff up gales of wind, and coax lightning to show itself in a tube.

 In what looks like an giant ant farm, there is a mountain range that visitors can flood enough to float the ark lodged between two hills.

Children are encouraged to help build the ark. Slats of wood can be fitted between the ribs of the ship to finish the boat. Then you can load the animals; simply fit the foam creatures into a conveyor belt. 

Two by two, or all alone, turn a big wheel and the animals climb up the side of the ship, then tumble down the other side into a basket to wait for the next lucky person to play.

Pass by the wooden camels sitting sentry on the gangplank, and enter the ark. Here there are tables and chairs to sit on, rubber poop to clean up with child-sized mops and brooms, and scads of animal puppets to play with.

Charlotte sends animals to the ark on a conveyor belt.

As you might expect, animals are everywhere: snakes are draped over rafters, languidly drooping; a lion sits majestically (or as regally as he can with a raffia mane); a mountain sheep peers down on visitors.

 Every so often, a museum worker comes by with an animal marionette: a huge raptor with moveable wings, or a shy fox that gradually becomes bold enough to interact with the kids.

My granddaughter Charlotte decided the fox looked sleepy, and brought him some straw for a bed. Maybe he wanted a nap, I don't know. I certainly could have used one.

There is a hanging swing in a corner for weary parents, but alas, we were not alone in thinking, "oh my God, I've got to sit down right now."

A zebra and an elephant make of recycled
materials guard the entrance to the exhibit.

The thesis of the exhibit, demonstrated quite clearly in the introduction by a hyperactive docent, is that everyone has to work together to survive the storm. Since this is a Jewish cultural center, it is easy to see that rain, wind and flooding might not be the only storm they have in mind.

The concepts that everyone has a job to do, and that we have to live in harmony with animals and nature are all over the exhibit. Wherever possible, the animals are made of recyclable material. A life-size zebra near the entrance has a musical keyboard for a mane, and roof-top heat extractors for haunches.

In fact, for adults, recognizing all the disparate parts of the menagerie might be the biggest joy in all this. Kids just see the beast depicted, we can see the fly-swatter wings and rubber floor-mats used as elephant ears.

An alligator made of a violin case, a violin neck, and an old tire.
A leather glove holding a glass eye forms the  creature's head.

My favorite was the alligator made of a a violin case, with the violin's neck forming the tongue, an old tire making the body, and a black leather glove holding an eye to create the head. It was ingenious.

All around the second floor inside the ark, runs a platform that kids can climb up to on a rope ladder. Charlotte is too small to climb up there, so she didn't get to go. We sat on a packing crate and watched the "little savages," as my friend Lynn calls them.

A mother and daughter have a tea party
on the ark, while other kids runs round upstairs.

Lynn and I have sat side by side a few times and watched the weird dance of socialization that children do, the Lord of the Flies hierarchy that takes no time to develop. My daughter Megan looked around the floor and said, "There's not as much poop on the floor as there usually is. The big boys on the top floor are hoarding it."

Shy retiring kids get toys taken from them, and those at an awkward age, like Lotte, unsuccessfully try to fit in with groups of older or younger children.

Don't be disappointed if that daughter or granddaughter you hope will be the first female president of the United States grabs a broom or mop. Turns out that kids just like to be helpful, just not at home.

Who knew the domestic arts could hold such endless fascination?

A word to the wise: unless you are deaf or don't mind the din of scores of children, book the earliest entry time you can. They start letting people in at noon, and add more each half-hour. Your entry time allows you two hours in the ark, so you do the math.

Yes, that is Lotte, who we hope will be the first PhD in
 the family, cleaning up poop in the ark.
Better they learn humility at an early age.
Behind her is the rope ladder to the top floor.

By one o'clock, more children had arrived than had left, and the noise level rose alarmingly. About the time six boys, ages 6 to 11, came pounding into the exhibit, I was looking for an exit.

Another tip, bring a change of clothes for your kids. Outside is the "Rainbow Fountain" which is basically misters making a rainbow over a stretch of sidewalk. Kids love to run back and forth through it until they get soaked, and it could be a long, wet ride back home.

Tickets are $10 for adults; $5 for those age 2-12; $7 for seniors (65+) and full-time students, and you need to book them in advance to get a reservation for Noah's Ark. There are a limited number of walk-up reservations, but that could mean arriving at noon and having to wait until 2:30 or 3p.m. to get into the ark.

Thursdays are free for every one, but you can't make reservations, so arrive early.

The current show is Masters of Illusion: Jewish Magicians of the Golden Age, and the ongoing Visions and Values: Jewish Life from Antiquity to America, which has some quite nice interactive displays for children.