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osprey_archerMy art history class went to the Art Institute of Chicago to see their exhibit on Munch (he who painted The Scream, although the Art Institute didn't have it as Norway never lends it out because it's already been stolen twice), and then wander their galleries at random.
I love art museums. (Well, all museums really.) I love seeing real live paintings, which are so much bigger and sharper and more in person, and with the Impressionists and post-Impressionists you can actually get right up and see the texture of the paint on canvas: the sharp red lines of Van Gogh's painted beard, the thick nap of the cloth in a Renoir.
(You can see the picture, right? LJ has been sassing me.) This should be Two Sisters, one of my favorite Renoirs; it's part of my imaginary exhibition, about which I am writing a paper for art history. (This is possible the best paper assignment ever. Art history FTW!)
I have a theory about the enduring popularity of Impressionist paintings. They're genuinely artistic, in the sense that no one (except maybe an unconscionable snob) would call you a philistine if you hung one on the wall, but they aren't the kind of artistic where you would start avoiding the room where you hung the thing because you're pretty sure that if it's just you and the painting, the painting would win. And probably celebrate its victory by eating you.
Also there's the fact that they're beautiful in their own right, like this painting by Monet.
I'm standing there to give the picture a sense of scale. Paintings are very often much larger than I expect; even seeing them projected on a screen doesn't give a real sense of their size.
The art museum had a whole room almost devoted to Monet: Monet's bridges, Monet's water lilies, Monet's haystacks. Previously I was aghast at the idea of Monet's haystacks. I mean, really? He spent three years of his life haystacks? He couldn't find something better to do with his time?
But when you see six of them side by side, it's thrilling. The light is different, the shadows soar, the paint is luminous, Monet was a genius.
We had lunch at a place called Cosi's, which is apparently a chain on the east coast - having never been to the east coast, I can neither confirm nor deny - but it does have excellent sandwiches, much tastier than Panera for the same price. I had a turkey and brie sandwich. The mustard was so hot it burned my nose and made my eyes water, but eventually I realized that an appropriate brie to mustard ratio solved the problem and then it was delicious.
I love art museums. (Well, all museums really.) I love seeing real live paintings, which are so much bigger and sharper and more in person, and with the Impressionists and post-Impressionists you can actually get right up and see the texture of the paint on canvas: the sharp red lines of Van Gogh's painted beard, the thick nap of the cloth in a Renoir.
(You can see the picture, right? LJ has been sassing me.) This should be Two Sisters, one of my favorite Renoirs; it's part of my imaginary exhibition, about which I am writing a paper for art history. (This is possible the best paper assignment ever. Art history FTW!)
I have a theory about the enduring popularity of Impressionist paintings. They're genuinely artistic, in the sense that no one (except maybe an unconscionable snob) would call you a philistine if you hung one on the wall, but they aren't the kind of artistic where you would start avoiding the room where you hung the thing because you're pretty sure that if it's just you and the painting, the painting would win. And probably celebrate its victory by eating you.
Also there's the fact that they're beautiful in their own right, like this painting by Monet.
I'm standing there to give the picture a sense of scale. Paintings are very often much larger than I expect; even seeing them projected on a screen doesn't give a real sense of their size.
The art museum had a whole room almost devoted to Monet: Monet's bridges, Monet's water lilies, Monet's haystacks. Previously I was aghast at the idea of Monet's haystacks. I mean, really? He spent three years of his life haystacks? He couldn't find something better to do with his time?
But when you see six of them side by side, it's thrilling. The light is different, the shadows soar, the paint is luminous, Monet was a genius.
We had lunch at a place called Cosi's, which is apparently a chain on the east coast - having never been to the east coast, I can neither confirm nor deny - but it does have excellent sandwiches, much tastier than Panera for the same price. I had a turkey and brie sandwich. The mustard was so hot it burned my nose and made my eyes water, but eventually I realized that an appropriate brie to mustard ratio solved the problem and then it was delicious.
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no subject
Date: 2009-03-11 05:14 pm (UTC)Heh! I like this, and I know exactly what you mean.
Thank you for sharing! I loved looking at the paintings, even secondhand through a camera. The third haystack painting is, as you said, luminous, even reproduced like this.
Sometimes I really like Monet. I picked my current icon partly because it reminded me a bit of Monet's painting of a field dotted with red flowers: Poppies. My other favourite is La pie. Very few people can paint snow properly. The linked art doesn't really get across how amazing the colours were in the snow-- blues, yellows.
It sounds like a great day.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-11 05:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-12 12:12 am (UTC)And I agree about the snow - both that it's hard to paint, and that Monet painted it well. It reminds me tangentially of this painting (http://farm1.static.flickr.com/88/245793209_690871083f.jpg?v=0) by Fritz Thaulow, which was also at the museum. The snow is nothing special, but look at the water.