Happy New Year!
This past weekend I went to New York to see A View from the Bridge (link goes to New York Times review). I'll be seeing it again in February with elainasaunt, but bought this ticket when it looked like we wouldn't be able to meet up. The production is overwhelming, stunning. Nicola Walker is fierce and loving as Beatrice. As for Mark Strong, there are really no words.
I spent the bulk of the weekend watering my roots. I went to the Guggenheim on Friday, after a brief walk in Central Park (and may I say how wonderful it is to say that I "took a walk" even if it is merely a brief one?). I found that very little of the collection was on view as the rotunda had been given over to a special exhibition, but the Kandinsky's were marvelous. The building itself is stunning, but it really is a terrible place to hang art and have people look at it.
The Met was Saturday. The one thing I really miss in DC is classical sculpture. I glutted myself on Greek and Roman sculpture and then visited the Egyptians. I also saw some lovely Japanese Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, the Rodins, and some of the Impressionists. The building isn't easy to navigate on a cane, the elevators aren't always placed optimally, and I got off one elevator to be faced with four steps down to the gallery. I have no idea what someone in a wheelchair would do.
Sunday, I went to the Frick Collection. I was positive that I'd been on some past visit to New York, but, no, the collection was new to me. It was lovely. I found that I could tell a Van Eyck at ten paces as well as Holbein, Memling, Gainsborough, El Greco (he's easy), Constable, and Romney. I didn't do well with Van Dyck however.
It was Turner, though, that brought the oddest experience. There were three in one room and another near the little gallery with Sevres porcelain. That was a small seascape which didn't immediately leap out and announce it was a Turner. Two were to the left as I went into the long room from the oval room, one of Dieppe Harbor and one of Calais. They were both astonishing and easily marked as Turner's even from a distance. There was a third Turner facing them, again, easily distinguished as a Turner. The painting drew me and I found myself in tears standing in front of it. I have been awed and touched by art, but this experience was totally new to me. I can't explain it. The painting turns out to have been a Rhein landing in Koln, but I don't have a real link to that city -- other than having my passport pickpocketed there many years ago.
Cologne: The Arrival of a Packet-Boat: Evening
The entire collection was a fascinating view into the tastes of two people. I want to go back again.
eta: There are very few fully documented Vermeers. One was stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum 20 years ago. Three are in the National Gallery of Art here in the District. Several are in the Rijksmuseum or Mauritshuis, and the Queen of England owns at least one, per Tim's Vermeer. The Frick Collection also had three Vermeers, which is one more than the British National Gallery has.
I hope everyone else had lovely New Years to start 2016 off right.
I spent the bulk of the weekend watering my roots. I went to the Guggenheim on Friday, after a brief walk in Central Park (and may I say how wonderful it is to say that I "took a walk" even if it is merely a brief one?). I found that very little of the collection was on view as the rotunda had been given over to a special exhibition, but the Kandinsky's were marvelous. The building itself is stunning, but it really is a terrible place to hang art and have people look at it.
The Met was Saturday. The one thing I really miss in DC is classical sculpture. I glutted myself on Greek and Roman sculpture and then visited the Egyptians. I also saw some lovely Japanese Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, the Rodins, and some of the Impressionists. The building isn't easy to navigate on a cane, the elevators aren't always placed optimally, and I got off one elevator to be faced with four steps down to the gallery. I have no idea what someone in a wheelchair would do.
Sunday, I went to the Frick Collection. I was positive that I'd been on some past visit to New York, but, no, the collection was new to me. It was lovely. I found that I could tell a Van Eyck at ten paces as well as Holbein, Memling, Gainsborough, El Greco (he's easy), Constable, and Romney. I didn't do well with Van Dyck however.
It was Turner, though, that brought the oddest experience. There were three in one room and another near the little gallery with Sevres porcelain. That was a small seascape which didn't immediately leap out and announce it was a Turner. Two were to the left as I went into the long room from the oval room, one of Dieppe Harbor and one of Calais. They were both astonishing and easily marked as Turner's even from a distance. There was a third Turner facing them, again, easily distinguished as a Turner. The painting drew me and I found myself in tears standing in front of it. I have been awed and touched by art, but this experience was totally new to me. I can't explain it. The painting turns out to have been a Rhein landing in Koln, but I don't have a real link to that city -- other than having my passport pickpocketed there many years ago.
Cologne: The Arrival of a Packet-Boat: Evening
The entire collection was a fascinating view into the tastes of two people. I want to go back again.
eta: There are very few fully documented Vermeers. One was stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum 20 years ago. Three are in the National Gallery of Art here in the District. Several are in the Rijksmuseum or Mauritshuis, and the Queen of England owns at least one, per Tim's Vermeer. The Frick Collection also had three Vermeers, which is one more than the British National Gallery has.
I hope everyone else had lovely New Years to start 2016 off right.