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John William Waterhouse became my favorite artist some time ago. I'm not really sure how or why. He's not a particularly engaging, tragic, or even mysterious personality. He died of cancer when he was old. He was straight and married to a woman...and his art is...pretty. I think it's actually quite beautiful, but you really have to look deeper to see it. A lot of what he paints is the beauty of death, and I find fascinating. He's most well known for The Lady of Shalott, but my favorites are his two Ophelias and St. Eulalia. The first two show the character as she's losing and then as she's lost her mind, and St. Eulalia is about a martyr who's murdered, and left on the ground, but it's incredibly beautiful. It's also hard to see just how beautiful until you are standing in front of it in all it's epic-scaled glory.
The Montreal Fine Art Museum has gathered the largest exhibition of his work to date, and the first such exhibition in my lifetime. This weekend was the last weekend it was here before it's sent overseas, and I knew I had to see it. I invited Dino to come, but he had other plans. The rest of my friends either were interested, but had no passports, or had passports but were uninterested. I drove myself from New Haven to Burlington, VT to see my friends Jen and Dee. I worked with Jen at Redlands, and we both saw the end of our jobs there at about the same time. She moved back East with her wife. I spent the evening having fun with them, then set out for Montreal this morning.
The exhibition was amazing, although a number of the paintings I was hoping to see weren't there, including both Ophelias. There were, however, a large number of important pieces, many of which were from private collections, and as such, I might not ever have gotten to see otherwise. In that regard, it was magical, and definitely somethign I couldn't pass up. I also learned how to make my car speak metric, and drive in a country where I couldn't understand the road signs :)
After the museum, I headed in the direction that I knew vaguely to be the "gay area." I had researched the local bear bar...get this...Bar Le Stud. It wasn't too far away, and I got parked with little problem at all. I chatted up the bartender and had a beer. No one was really around, so I explored the gay street for two hours, and headed back. There were lots of seedy little places, but rest assured that I was a good boy. After a but of shopping and browsing, I went back to Le Stud to flirt with the second bartender I saw come in as I was leaving the first time. His name is Marc, and he's very handsome. I told him so while brashly sipping on my 7 Up. I know, I was living on the edge. After a final goodbye, which was much more exciting in my head than the handshake and smile I received, I headed back to Burlington, about an hour and forty five minute drive. I've never crossed a national border in the car, and it was much less of an ordeal than I would have expected. I will say that the border patrols on both sides were boring men. If I had free reign to ask people anything I wanted about their lives all day, I'd be having a lot more fun than them. Who wouldn't love to be asked a crazy question after all the boring stuff they have to find out? What color are your underwear today? Who was the last person to make you cry? Would you rather have sex with Grimmace from McDonalds, or get gang banged by Snap, Crackle, and Pop? Maybe that last one is a little too cultural...
When I got back, Jen and Dee were in the middle of making dinner with their friend, and it was amazing. Afterwards, we went to see A Single Man with the ever-beautiful Colin Firth as directed by Tom Ford. It was a very good directorial debut, and a very visually beautiful movie, if not very melancholy. I teared up a few times. The symbolism was a little vague for me at some points, but otherwise, gorgeous. The set dressing was flawlessly tasteful.
I'm off to bed now, as brunch is in the morning, then my drive back to New Haven. With any luck, I might just miss the entire superbowl. When does that shit go down anyhow?
The Montreal Fine Art Museum has gathered the largest exhibition of his work to date, and the first such exhibition in my lifetime. This weekend was the last weekend it was here before it's sent overseas, and I knew I had to see it. I invited Dino to come, but he had other plans. The rest of my friends either were interested, but had no passports, or had passports but were uninterested. I drove myself from New Haven to Burlington, VT to see my friends Jen and Dee. I worked with Jen at Redlands, and we both saw the end of our jobs there at about the same time. She moved back East with her wife. I spent the evening having fun with them, then set out for Montreal this morning.
The exhibition was amazing, although a number of the paintings I was hoping to see weren't there, including both Ophelias. There were, however, a large number of important pieces, many of which were from private collections, and as such, I might not ever have gotten to see otherwise. In that regard, it was magical, and definitely somethign I couldn't pass up. I also learned how to make my car speak metric, and drive in a country where I couldn't understand the road signs :)
After the museum, I headed in the direction that I knew vaguely to be the "gay area." I had researched the local bear bar...get this...Bar Le Stud. It wasn't too far away, and I got parked with little problem at all. I chatted up the bartender and had a beer. No one was really around, so I explored the gay street for two hours, and headed back. There were lots of seedy little places, but rest assured that I was a good boy. After a but of shopping and browsing, I went back to Le Stud to flirt with the second bartender I saw come in as I was leaving the first time. His name is Marc, and he's very handsome. I told him so while brashly sipping on my 7 Up. I know, I was living on the edge. After a final goodbye, which was much more exciting in my head than the handshake and smile I received, I headed back to Burlington, about an hour and forty five minute drive. I've never crossed a national border in the car, and it was much less of an ordeal than I would have expected. I will say that the border patrols on both sides were boring men. If I had free reign to ask people anything I wanted about their lives all day, I'd be having a lot more fun than them. Who wouldn't love to be asked a crazy question after all the boring stuff they have to find out? What color are your underwear today? Who was the last person to make you cry? Would you rather have sex with Grimmace from McDonalds, or get gang banged by Snap, Crackle, and Pop? Maybe that last one is a little too cultural...
When I got back, Jen and Dee were in the middle of making dinner with their friend, and it was amazing. Afterwards, we went to see A Single Man with the ever-beautiful Colin Firth as directed by Tom Ford. It was a very good directorial debut, and a very visually beautiful movie, if not very melancholy. I teared up a few times. The symbolism was a little vague for me at some points, but otherwise, gorgeous. The set dressing was flawlessly tasteful.
I'm off to bed now, as brunch is in the morning, then my drive back to New Haven. With any luck, I might just miss the entire superbowl. When does that shit go down anyhow?