The museum in Dover has been a bargain. We go for exhibitions. Openings are fun. They serve food! Free! Yum! I’m there for the food. Ha! Really, we’re there for the art?! In celebration of Black history month this exhibit was mounted. Free food! Ok, good art too. Fine art! Fine.
And the kicker? They had another “meet the artist” event a few weeks later. More free food! I guess old habits never die.
I was a moderately poor sleep deprived neurosurgery resident so so many decades ago. We were constantly trolling for food. I learned to sleep an extra ten minutes in the morning by drinking down Ensure or Sustacal instead of eating a proper breakfast. Yup! Yuck! But the chocolate flavor tastes vaguely like a “shake” if you cool it in the fridge. In the evening my chief resident would order seven dinners for the NICU patients – one for each patient. Mostly the patients were not yet cleared to eat. No matter. We would pick through the trays making a meal for ourselves as we prepared for evening rounds. He knew to go to the VA Hospital in the morning where we could get another free meal (breakfast). There, I learned that he ate scrambled eggs with ketchup. Nope, not me. But the food was always welcome. The old habits never die. I arrive at a buffet and get to eating promptly before the potions and choices dwindled. Yup! Free food!
If you stop often enough you might be surprised. Hays, Kansas. We braked for antiques. It was far enough along in miles that we needed a break. You try to pick something good. It wasn’t particularly (good). In this little shop off the interstate a Scottish woman gave us a whole story of this piece she had acquired and shipped from Scotland. Religious symbolism was all over the piece. She described religious plants, symbols signifying the books of the bible, the carvings, and even Celtic influence. Jesus had two right hands? There was a representation of the Pieta. She was looking for a museum to purchase her treasure. I would agree. It should find an appropriate home. I did not ask the price.
Richard Cleaver does some strange work. It’s unique. I’ve never seen anything like it. It is a bit out there for me. It would appear he liberally uses hat pins. No matter. The work is eye catching. And you would have to admit it took a lot of time to complete. Wondrous things are lurking in the minds of talented artists.
The last time I played with watercolor was in kindergarten. I was forced to paint something for parent teacher conference. My only goal/task during free time was to take out all of the wooden blocks. I never got to play. Just taking the blocks off the shelf used all my time. Insanity!? (doing the same thing over and over … hoping for a different outcome) So, I sat before a paper clipped to an easel, took a single color, filled my brush, and painted a squiggly line, filling the page, and then sat back contentedly. Have I told you this before? When asked I responded to the teacher, “It’s a roller coaster.” She walked away counting to herself. I remember that part too. So, you’d laugh to think we signed up for watercolor lessons with an artist of considerable renown. To be sure my significant other wanted to meet the artist. Aha! But why take lessons? I fell upon the sword immediately and claimed to be a complete novice.
I mean there were folks there with some serious paint, brushes, and paper. Mission accomplished. We scored an invitation to visit the artist in his studio. I was complemented on my work (ha ha [but he really did – a good teacher]). The artist’s style complimented my own. He just threw the paint upon the paper and then closed in on the details as he went along. I had no details and was very good about throwing paint on the paper. Hey, there’s potential here. Oh, his frames were also art. He was a metal worker in the other half of his life. And, I work in wood. Hmm…..
What they never told me is that you can join a museum and get reciprocity at others. We have been to a lot of museums for free. And I mean in Chicago and in LA and points between. Of course, the exhibits are there to stimulate discussion. Hey! I just retired. Do we really need colored plastic heads strewn about? Humpf!! Gates!? Jean Claude and Christo – Central Park many years ago. It was about orange gates in the park for a few weeks. It was mesmerizing. The artistry is in the concept. The concept pictures and proposal sell for tens of thousands – enough to fund the project’s million dollars bill. I mean millions of dollars. So, the sales earn a lot of money. That builds a lot of gates. By the way, most of the proposals and projects never got built.
MOMA. Spend a day in New York City. So many things to do, so little time. Eat. Walk around. Duck into the museum from the rain. Museum of Modern Art. Starry Night – Van Gogh, Christina’s World – Andrew Wyeth. There were many more. But these are pretty famous icons. We got to see them up close. There was a huge crowd surrounding Starry Night. The Wyeth was hanging in the hallway. It was cool to have seen them both. People were 10 deep around the Van Gogh taking selfies. The Wyeth was quietly passed in the hallway. So much art, an icon like this would be center stage. Here, it was relegated to the hallway. So much art, so little space.
MOMA has a shop that specializes in gadgets and things. It’s Modern! Duh!? Yup, it’s half a bowl. Odd but somehow… why didn’t I think of that? Neat! So I did them one back. Half a person – at the info booth. Neat too?!
Rock! I’ve been under a rock. I missed the most liked tweet – ever! Ah! But I’m not on twitter – tee hee. I got this bit of news from late night TV.
Seriously, I’ve been searching for a way to express my feeling without joining up with the “Antifa.” There is good in the world. Click your heels three times and you’ll be back in “Kansas.”
I have been exposed. I have been there. I have seen them. Cool. Checked off the to do list. Sorry. It’s like smelling bacon. It is not something to be described but to be experienced. Words do not adequately describe a taste or smell. What I see goes through my occipital cortex. Where it goes from there… clueless – me.
… with George. A Sunday on La Grande Jatte — 1884. Pointillism, George Seurat. It was part of the title of a musical by Sondheim. Enough? Look closely and there is no actual detail. It’s “pointillism.” Get the point? Been there more than once. Seen it. I believe I missed the “art gene.”
I had no art work for show and tell – parent visit on conference day in kindergarten. Forced to confront a blank sheet of paper I took a single color and proceeded to paint a twisted path all over the paper in one color with a single brush. Asked what this was, I replied, “A rollercoaster…” I do believe I remember the steam rising as the teacher silently walked away. I was not asked to produce another piece of work the rest of the year. Every kid needs the right button. Points of paint – that would have intrigued me enough to experiment with the science of art. Some people are art and others – not.