Saturday, June 16, 2007

To Emote

New York City weather people are not very reliable. Instead of thunderstorms all day, we were blessed with a very clear and very warm day. Rain and clouds, well, they came later. But we made it inside for a nap just in time.

This morning we made a very pleasant subway trek down to the East Village, to meet Nick for brunch. Though the sun was a little too warm (I have stupid, sensitive California heat/cold tolerance), it couldn't have been more beautiful, and was only made more so by the fact that we were out of Times Square. The place -- I can't remember the name, and that's no good (Nick, help me!) -- was Brazilian food, and we ate out on the patio: yummy food accompanied by delicious coffee and a mimosa.

Afterwards, the three of us headed Uptown to the Museum of Modern Art. My mom and I were thrilled to have Nick -- the graduated art student -- there to inform our art-stupid brains what was what. As I said yesterday, I'm an expressionist type of gal, though I feel bad putting a label on something that's so rooted in emotion. Cheesy maybe, but I feel the same way about music.First, there were two new exhibits: Richard Serra (the sculpter) and Dan Perjovschi (a Romanian artist) -- two of the most entertaining aspects of the day. Here is one angle of one of Serra's sculptures, located out in the Garden:

There were many more, none of which I could take pictures of. But these are enormous steel sculptures, standing up with NO support -- just perfect and precise engineering design. Really trippy walking through them; the angles and the textures of the steel were incredible. Nick was very excited; it was the exhibit he wanted to see the most, so it worked out well that we were planning on going to the MoMA anyway.

Dan Perjovschi is an artist who drew cartoon-like drawings all over the wall of the 2nd floor. It is all commentary on current events. I took some pictures, but then I found these videos, and they show many many more of the drawings then I took pictures of. So enjoy!

(See the second installation of the video here!)

Okay, instead of talking at you, I'll just post pictures and names of the pieces that stood out to me the most.

Jackson Pollock's "Echo: Number 25"

Claude Monet's "The Japanese Footbridge"

Carlo Carrà's "Funeral of the Anarchist Galli"

Piet Mondrian's "Compositions in Brown and Gray"

Umberto Boccioni's "States of Mind II: Those Who Go"
These are my types of paintings. Beautiful. My mom really enjoyed the Pollock pieces, though, as she puts it, "They are contrary to my personality." There were about a hundred that I found sensational, but these are the ones I took the effort to write down, plus a couple others I didn't include here. I will say that even though I don't have any personal connection or love for Monet, seeing a room full of his work makes me feel incredibly star-struck. I mean, their the paintings.Speaking of the painting, I was surprised when I approached a crowd of people only to turn and see that they were staring at none other than Van Gogh's "Starry Night." Star-struck, for real. I'm sure I'll react the same way when I see the "Mona Lisa" and "The David." Artwork is cool when it's that frickin' famous. I'm not going to include the picture here, because if you don't know what painting I'm refering to, I can't help you. Seeing it was crazy, and as much as I love the painting, I've never had any emotional attachment to it. Seeing it was rad, though.

HOWEVER, I did get teary-eyed (and probably would have cried were I alone) when I saw these:

Wasily Kandinsky's "Four Panel's for Edwin K. Campbell" (pictured are only three of them). Kandinsky is my favorite artist. I have books and books on him, and for 5 consecutive years, his work was the subject of my calenders. If you don't know him and these works strike you, check out his stuff. The colors, the shapes, the lines, the details, the subtle images... Brilliance.

I'm going to avoid talking about all the architecture and design stuff. That is territory I could embarrass myself in. Though, there was this rockin' awesome lamp by Louis C. Tiffany. I want it.

A big thanks to Nick for his patience with us today -- I know it must be frustrating talking to idiots trying to talk about art. You were a great guide! =)

In non-art-related happenings, there is food! Can FINALLY cross #9 off my check-list of GQ's 20 Best Burgers in America -- the cheeseburger from Burger Joint, nestled in the Le Parker Meridian Hotel, Manhattan. Honestly, not that great. I'd give it about 6 out of 10 stars. If you want a hard-core burger, check out #11 on the list. Best. Burger. Ever.

Ok. I know I am overloading my blog with pictures and descriptions, but it probably won't be like this again for a long while. I don't know what my internet situation will be like in France -- hopefully I'll get into an internet caf
é at one point. Having free wireless in my hotel room as spoiled me.

I'll be keeping notes on interesting events and such. There won't be as much touristy stuff, I feel, while in Toulouse, so hopefully there will be pictures of me doing something worthwhile, and not just pictures of artwork and buildings. Let's hope.

Alright. I'm getting tired. Art is exhausting, and after so many paintings and miles trampled, my brain and muscles hate me.
Off to bed. 15 hours of airport/airplane fun ahead of me tomorrow. Yay.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Stacy! It's Dad and Father's Day and I wanted to say "I love you" and thanks for the wonderful card!! How fantastic to see all that art ... so jealous! I was reminded of using the following poem last week in my sermon ... it is about Monet -- who, I'm sure you know, at the end of his life had cataract surgery to recover some of his sight ... not really successful ... but I love this poem and thought you would identify since now you have stood so close to them!

    Monet Refuses the Operation

    Doctor, you say that there are no haloes around the streetlights in Paris and what I see is an aberration caused by old age, an affliction.
    I tell you it has taken me all my life
    to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
    to soften and blur and finally banish
    the edges you regret I don't see,
    to learn that the line I called the horizon
    does not exist and sky and water,
    so long apart, are the same state of being.
    Fifty-four years before I could see
    Rouen cathedral is built
    of parallel shafts of sun,
    and now you want to restore
    my youthful errors: fixed
    notions of top and bottom,
    the illusion of three-dimensional space,
    wisteria separate
    from the bridge it covers.
    What can I say to convince you
    the Houses of Parliament dissolve
    night after night to become
    the fluid dream of the Thames?
    I will not return to a universe
    of objects that don't know each other,
    as if islands were not the lost children
    of one great continent. The world
    is flux, and light becomes what it touches,
    becomes water, lilies on water,
    above and below water,
    becomes lilac and mauve and yellow
    and white and cerulean lamps,
    small fists passing sunlight
    so quickly to one another
    that it would take long, streaming hair
    inside my brush to catch it.
    To paint the speed of light!
    Our weighted shapes, these verticals,
    burn to mix with air
    and changes our bones, skin, clothes
    to gases.
    if only you could see
    how heaven pulls earth into its arms
    and how infinitely the heart expands
    to claim this world, blue vapor without end.

    ~ Lisel Mueller ~

    (Sixty Years of American Poetry, The Academy of American Poets)

    Bon Voyage!! Godspeed!! Dad