Art
Tomorrow is the two hundredth anniversary of the publication of Pride and Prejudice, which has made a whole lot of people a whole lot of money--but not Jane Austen. But what she gained was fame, as well as a hand in shaping the modern novel. Tomorrow Book View Cafe will look at Austen mania, but today, here is my take on the book, for modern readers.
Yesterday, I went to the Getty. Pix and comments below the cut, to preserve people's bandwidth.
I know the old saying that natives of a city never go the cultural goodies their own city has to offer, though that is the first thing they do when traveling. Well, I pretty much fit that generality, and I was reflecting on why as we bowled up the freeway yesterday, through intermittent bits of rain (which means to Angelinos to drive faster and even more crazy). In a strange town, the getting to the cultural site can be as interesting as the place itself. It's like young readers: everything is new. The thought of climbing into the car and slogging up the freeway and hassling with parking on a day when you don't have to do it can outweigh the delights of the place once you are there, especially if you have already spent far too many hours sitting on the freeway.
But. In company, it can make a big difference. A few months ago I was lucky enough to reconnect with a friend going back to junior high and high school, who (it turns out) lives a few blocks from me. And has for ten years. She doesn't use a computer, so her reconnection is like it was in our youth: largely hit or miss, that is, by chance through another party. And so it was. As a result I got invited to a floating tea party--a bunch of local women who get together every six weeks or so for a high tea, as an excuse to break out the nice clothes and fancy dishes that otherwise would sit in the cabinet for decade after decade, unused. These are a bunch of interesting people with a wide variety of interests and jobs, many my age or close.
So three of us went to the Getty yesterday, as the lovely rain broke up. Here we are in the morning, on thye Getty hill. I'm looking down at the 405 and LA beyond. Since it's looking east, I guess this is where the Malibu hills become the Hollywood Hills. One can make out some gigantic roofs here and there. See how GREEN it is!
And here from the top of the hill--because the air has been fresh-washed, you can not only see the buildings of the Wilshire district, but Downtown LA in the distance:
So, among the many delights there, were the tiny but perfectly rendered medieval faces so differentiated down to skintones that in spite of the stylized poses, I wonder if I am looking at portraits of people who lived 600 years ago. (Sorry it is blurry--I was right up against the glass, as the bit I wanted to photograph was very, very tiny)
Then there was the painting of two fashionably gowned girls who couldn't be more than sixteen, in their Victorian swoops and swirls, intently regarding a display containing a doll-sized replica of a Samurai warrior. I thought, western fascination with things Japanese is not so new after all.
So much lovely furniture, and here even a few period rooms, which are my favorite type of museum experience. The next best thing to living in one.
Yesterday, I went to the Getty. Pix and comments below the cut, to preserve people's bandwidth.
I know the old saying that natives of a city never go the cultural goodies their own city has to offer, though that is the first thing they do when traveling. Well, I pretty much fit that generality, and I was reflecting on why as we bowled up the freeway yesterday, through intermittent bits of rain (which means to Angelinos to drive faster and even more crazy). In a strange town, the getting to the cultural site can be as interesting as the place itself. It's like young readers: everything is new. The thought of climbing into the car and slogging up the freeway and hassling with parking on a day when you don't have to do it can outweigh the delights of the place once you are there, especially if you have already spent far too many hours sitting on the freeway.
But. In company, it can make a big difference. A few months ago I was lucky enough to reconnect with a friend going back to junior high and high school, who (it turns out) lives a few blocks from me. And has for ten years. She doesn't use a computer, so her reconnection is like it was in our youth: largely hit or miss, that is, by chance through another party. And so it was. As a result I got invited to a floating tea party--a bunch of local women who get together every six weeks or so for a high tea, as an excuse to break out the nice clothes and fancy dishes that otherwise would sit in the cabinet for decade after decade, unused. These are a bunch of interesting people with a wide variety of interests and jobs, many my age or close.
So three of us went to the Getty yesterday, as the lovely rain broke up. Here we are in the morning, on thye Getty hill. I'm looking down at the 405 and LA beyond. Since it's looking east, I guess this is where the Malibu hills become the Hollywood Hills. One can make out some gigantic roofs here and there. See how GREEN it is!
And here from the top of the hill--because the air has been fresh-washed, you can not only see the buildings of the Wilshire district, but Downtown LA in the distance:
So, among the many delights there, were the tiny but perfectly rendered medieval faces so differentiated down to skintones that in spite of the stylized poses, I wonder if I am looking at portraits of people who lived 600 years ago. (Sorry it is blurry--I was right up against the glass, as the bit I wanted to photograph was very, very tiny)
Then there was the painting of two fashionably gowned girls who couldn't be more than sixteen, in their Victorian swoops and swirls, intently regarding a display containing a doll-sized replica of a Samurai warrior. I thought, western fascination with things Japanese is not so new after all.
So much lovely furniture, and here even a few period rooms, which are my favorite type of museum experience. The next best thing to living in one.