The birth of Impressionism
Last Thursday, I had the pleasure of viewing an exhibit at the de Young Museum, entitled Birth of Impressionism: Masterpieces from the Musée d'Orsay, with Yoojin and Nari. We rendezvoused at the museum shortly after 6:00 PM. Since our viewing was scheduled at 7:30, we had some time to wander the grounds. The museum gift shop was visited, the spacious lobby explored. We also grabbed a quick bite at the cafe. When the time came, we trickled downstairs to join the queue.
The exhibit was amazing. Nearly one hundred paintings were on display. (Of course, I was able to photograph none. The museum had placed a strict ban on the use of cameras and such for the exhibit.) Some of the paintings were familiar: Bouguereau's The Birth of Venus and Virgin of Consolation, Degas' The Dancing Lesson, and a still life piece by Cézanne. Most were foreign and new. But funnily enough, it was the unfamiliar paintings that I ended up liking the most in the end. The Floor Scrapers by Gustave Caillebotte. Flowers in a Crystal Vase by Édouard Manet. The Barge During the Flood, Port-Marly by Alfred Sisley (I bought a postcard replica of that at the gift shop on my way out). And especially Monet's paintings of sailing boats. One in particular made me chuckle out loud. I cannot remember the name of it, nor seem to be able to track it down on the Internet. It was a small painting of a single boat, with white sails unfurled. About a half of the canvas was taken up by the boat's reflection. It was the reflection that made me laugh. There was something so haphazard and amusingly impatient about the way the brown mast zigzagged over the blue and white of the painted water, that it looked slightly comical against the otherwise orderly and meticulous brush strokes. As if Monet, in a momentary fit of frustration, said "To *bleep* with it!" and swished his brush across the painting.
Another favorite: One painting that I came across was of a single stalk of asparagus. Now, upon coming to this painting, I already knew that Impressionist painters liked painting ordinary things. It was their thing, their trademark. But even so, an asparagus? Kind of random, don't you think? It wasn't until I had listened to the audio tour recording for the painting that I learned of the story behind the work. The painting, by Manet, was actually an accompaniment to his earlier painting of a bunch of asparagus stalks. A wealthy fanboy man, who was an admirer of Manet's work, was so overwhelmed by the painting of the asparagus stalks, that he overpaid Manet by 200 francs. In characteristic wit, Manet painted the piece of the single asparagus stalk, and sent it to the wealthy man with a note, saying, "I believe your bunch is missing one."
I was so grateful for the experience of seeing the real paintings, omg in person. Even now, I still think it was so surreal and cool that my nose was inches away from a real Monet or a Cézanne. I'm sorry that we had to rush through the exhibit, time constraints being as they were. I would have been happier if we could have stayed at least a half hour longer. I wanted to really study the paintings, and learn from them. Observe and memorize how the painter created believable waves in a stormy sea using different shades of blue, white, and green. Or a snow drift from creams and browns. Or even how the painter captured the fluffy quality of clouds against a beautiful gradient of blue. Because to me, that is what makes art so fascinating: how someone can, with the right strokes using the right colors in all the right places, create a convincing illusion of reality on a flat stretch of canvas.
The exhibit was amazing. Nearly one hundred paintings were on display. (Of course, I was able to photograph none. The museum had placed a strict ban on the use of cameras and such for the exhibit.) Some of the paintings were familiar: Bouguereau's The Birth of Venus and Virgin of Consolation, Degas' The Dancing Lesson, and a still life piece by Cézanne. Most were foreign and new. But funnily enough, it was the unfamiliar paintings that I ended up liking the most in the end. The Floor Scrapers by Gustave Caillebotte. Flowers in a Crystal Vase by Édouard Manet. The Barge During the Flood, Port-Marly by Alfred Sisley (I bought a postcard replica of that at the gift shop on my way out). And especially Monet's paintings of sailing boats. One in particular made me chuckle out loud. I cannot remember the name of it, nor seem to be able to track it down on the Internet. It was a small painting of a single boat, with white sails unfurled. About a half of the canvas was taken up by the boat's reflection. It was the reflection that made me laugh. There was something so haphazard and amusingly impatient about the way the brown mast zigzagged over the blue and white of the painted water, that it looked slightly comical against the otherwise orderly and meticulous brush strokes. As if Monet, in a momentary fit of frustration, said "To *bleep* with it!" and swished his brush across the painting.
Another favorite: One painting that I came across was of a single stalk of asparagus. Now, upon coming to this painting, I already knew that Impressionist painters liked painting ordinary things. It was their thing, their trademark. But even so, an asparagus? Kind of random, don't you think? It wasn't until I had listened to the audio tour recording for the painting that I learned of the story behind the work. The painting, by Manet, was actually an accompaniment to his earlier painting of a bunch of asparagus stalks. A wealthy fanboy man, who was an admirer of Manet's work, was so overwhelmed by the painting of the asparagus stalks, that he overpaid Manet by 200 francs. In characteristic wit, Manet painted the piece of the single asparagus stalk, and sent it to the wealthy man with a note, saying, "I believe your bunch is missing one."
I was so grateful for the experience of seeing the real paintings, omg in person. Even now, I still think it was so surreal and cool that my nose was inches away from a real Monet or a Cézanne. I'm sorry that we had to rush through the exhibit, time constraints being as they were. I would have been happier if we could have stayed at least a half hour longer. I wanted to really study the paintings, and learn from them. Observe and memorize how the painter created believable waves in a stormy sea using different shades of blue, white, and green. Or a snow drift from creams and browns. Or even how the painter captured the fluffy quality of clouds against a beautiful gradient of blue. Because to me, that is what makes art so fascinating: how someone can, with the right strokes using the right colors in all the right places, create a convincing illusion of reality on a flat stretch of canvas.