Feeding the soul

Spent part of a day at the Met this past weekend. Running through my mind the whole time was what makes a great work of art great--is it really something innate, or does so much depend on context?

Based on my few hours at least, true artistic genius of the past does indeed stand out--if for no other reason because our aesthetic sense has been calibrated by these works. So Picassos, Van Goghs catch your eye, even their less familiar works.

But the merely wonderful is less universal; your mood when you see it, your personal preferences, what it's hung with--all that and more govern whether you zip past it, or stop and give it a second look.

Here's some of what caught my eye that day--although looking at photos of these works online is altogether a different experience than wandering through a crowded exhibit in person, through the thicket of languages and speeds of viewing.

All but the last two works are from the Cezanne to Picasso show (which actually was a retrospective of the career of Ambroise Vollard).




Fishing in Spring isn't as vibrant or thick as what you think of as classic Van Gogh, but I liked the colors and its quietness. By contrast, Woman Rocking a Cradle has a bit more of the popping colors and starkness; I liked this one because of the eyes, the shades of green, and--for some reason--the outlined shapes.


The starkness and composition of Emile Bernard's Breton Landscape appeals to me--but also the back story. The painting's wall tag said it was returned by its first owner, who owned a hotel, because his guests threw bread at it. I guess it was too alien for them.


Picasso is like Shakespeare--you might not always think you'll like it in theory, but you should never pass up a chance to experience one of their works for yourself. And what would fall flat in the hands of a lesser artist always works with their touch.

What is it about The Old Guitarist that I like? The color, first; the shape of the body, the contrast between the guitar and the man, the angle of the head, the feeling you get of a moment always frozen.


The moment I saw Ivan Bilibin's works, I thought wow. The Met had illustrations he did for a version of the classic Russian children's book, Vasilia the Beautiful. Apparently Russians all know his work; they have a feeling of darkness and foreboding that's probably pretty similar in spirit to the original Grimm fairy tales; but also a shining kind of beauty that serves as a visual representation of the way kids hear fairy tales. His work felt very Russian to me, a classic style with a touch of depression.

In addition to the works above, I also liked learning in this show about Julien Tanguy, who apparently ran an arts supply store and met a lot of the impressionists when they were young and poor. He gave supplies for free in exchange for their works--now that'd make a great movie!


I liked this mantel mosaic clock best of all the items from Louis Comfort Tiffany's Long Island home in the Met's exhibit. The Nicole Bengiveno photo above, from the New York Times review's slideshow, unfortunately barely captures the work's luminescence. The clocks themselves tell you day of the week, hour/minute, and month. At night the soft green and purple mosaics were lit from behind.

Finally, Portrait of a Boy blew me away. In look and feel, it could've been made anytime in the last few centuries.

But actually it was made in Egypt--about 2,000 years ago! Absolutely astonishing; it was essentially made out of wax, in a process now referred to as encaustic.

All images via the Met website or found uncredited online unless otherwise noted.