First of all, I am happy to report that I've been to over 35 museums in the little-over two months I've been here. And that is 35 different museums, not 35 different visits. If we're counting separate visits, then I'm well over 50 museum visits and counting. I think I have the record for most museum visits of all the kids in my program.
Second, I visited the Van Gogh museum. He's great and wonderful, but I didn't enjoy his exhibit because I had a homework assignment to do. My art teacher assigned us a big project: we have to catalogue the dominant colors, genre, and painting style of each exhibited piece of artwork. Additionally, I had to note whether or not the work was signed or dated, and (this is the killer) I had to critique the frames. I didn't just have to describe them, I had to decide whether or not the frames were contemporary with the work. I also had to rate them as good, bad, or ugly, and give my reasoning.
This isn't the artwork I had to critique. The frames. Oh, the inhumanity. So, today, I spent a good four hours in the Van Gogh museum. Granted, I did have lunch with Amy and Martijn during that time, and I did go thru the Rosetti exhibit (more to come on that later), but I still spent a good deal of time analyzing Van Goghs, and I didn't even finish.
I love art just as much as the next person. In fact, I chose to study abroad in the Netherlands purely based on the fact that I happened to really love two Flemish paintings (The Marriage at Cana, by Jheronimus Bosch, and something I can't remember about Mary, Queen of Heaven) I saw in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. during a Model United Nations trip I took my senior year. I am crazy for Dutch art; it's just got a beautiful quality, the variety is great, and it's all so well done. But, really, is it completely necessary for me to critique every frame in the Van Gogh museum's holdings?
The best part of doing all this Van Gogh work were the great looks Amy and I got from everyone around us. Of course, we had to go on a Saturday, so the museum was packed. Amy and I blocked paintings, examined signatures, and debated brush strokes -- "is that medium-thick-bold or thin-thick-bold?" -- as people looked on admiringly. Worse, for us, is that our discussion prevented us from truly enjoying many of the works. This is highly ironic, as one of the main articles in our reader (and, I might add, this is an article that I had to expound upon during our recent midterm) tells us not to be critics of art but to merely absorb and enjoy art. The article called upon us to like whatever we may like, understand why we dislike certain works, and not be a snob who looks at the title, mumbles "brilliant chiaroscuro," and moves on. (chiaroscuro: \Chia`ro*scu"ro\, Chiaro-oscuro \Chi*a"ro-os*cu"ro\, n. [It., clear dark.] (a) The arrangement of light and dark parts in a work of art, such as a drawing or painting, whether in monochrome or in color. (b) The art or practice of so arranging the light and dark parts as to produce a harmonious effect. Caravaggio style lighting, often seen in Rembrant works, basically the technique of spotlighting a figure. it's cool) So, like I said, highly ironic that Amy and I wandered around mumbling "dominant color blue; thick, broad, bold brushstrokes; landscape."
Rosetti was the unexpected delight of the day; a special exhibit full of paintings, sonnets, and drawings. I am entranced. I'll let you look him up. His full name is Dante Gabriel Rosetti (originally Gabriel Dante Rosetti), and he is wonderful. You truly have to see his works for yourself. Try and find his sonnet about Lillith. Oh, am I glad I detoured into his exhibit to give myself a break from Van Gogh. I am getting close to being museumed-out. It will be nice to come back to the States and go hiking in "nature's museum" instead of seeing art. I love art, but there's only so many museums one can take in fourth months' time.
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