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This is Why I Came
Dec. 5th, 2007 10:01 amThe David.
I've had time to parse and process what I saw.
Not all art needs to be Great Art.
But when it is? Well, then it's things like the David. And there's a reason that it's *The* David and not just a David. If all art was Great, the David would be nothing special.
But it is.
It is huge. They say that, but then you see it.
And they leave out the most important part.
The expressiveness of the face. The resolve, but also the fear. This is a youth, a boy, his hands and feet too big, yet to grow into being a man. The stone in his hand. The sling in the other.
He hasn't killed Goliath yet and in this moment, he is afraid.
This is what sculpture can be. This is the kind of power that I felt when I saw Rodin's Gates of Hell for the first time. The way I felt in the presence of Rodin's Caryatid Fallen Under Her Stone.
It is astonishing and made me want to weep. Maybe I'm just sentimental that way. But I didn't see boredom on any face there that saw that statue.
And all of this in a building that from the outside is the definition of unassuming. The little door. And then you walk into the first room and there is the Rape of the Sabines. For me, it was a revelation. It's not as perfectly realized as the David. It's raw and powerful.
On the way to the David is a Pieta realized by one of Michaelangelo's students. The proportions are off and who gives a fuck. It's amazing.
There are benches everywhere and no hurry to leave. I sat and looked at the David for half an hour.
And in a corner? A painting of Venus and Cupid with the most lush, curvy woman I've ever seen. Hail, Venus! That's what I'm talking about.
Beautiful. Worth every penny of 10 Euro. Every damn penny.
* * *
Last night was the other reason why I came.
I stayed out till nearly midnight, having run into three other artists. We sat in the little cafe on the corner and talked art and culture for hours. I was the youngest one there.
My mind's rather blown. LA is the land of the young. If you're over 30, there's a bit of an attitude that your career is over. But here, surrounded by other artists?
This is a life with longevity. How about that?
And then I got back to my room and a concert by Genesis was playing on one of the channels. Yay, Phil Collins!
* * *
This morning, I called home. Spoke to my family. I miss them more than ever, but I now have a bag filled with tiny presents for them.
My Mouse said to me clearer than she's ever spoken, "I love you, Momma. I miss you."
I wish they were all here with me.
* * *
This ran long, but that's okay.
More pictures: http://www.flickr.com/photos/angelanhunt
Ciao, everyone!
I've had time to parse and process what I saw.
Not all art needs to be Great Art.
But when it is? Well, then it's things like the David. And there's a reason that it's *The* David and not just a David. If all art was Great, the David would be nothing special.
But it is.
It is huge. They say that, but then you see it.
And they leave out the most important part.
The expressiveness of the face. The resolve, but also the fear. This is a youth, a boy, his hands and feet too big, yet to grow into being a man. The stone in his hand. The sling in the other.
He hasn't killed Goliath yet and in this moment, he is afraid.
This is what sculpture can be. This is the kind of power that I felt when I saw Rodin's Gates of Hell for the first time. The way I felt in the presence of Rodin's Caryatid Fallen Under Her Stone.
It is astonishing and made me want to weep. Maybe I'm just sentimental that way. But I didn't see boredom on any face there that saw that statue.
And all of this in a building that from the outside is the definition of unassuming. The little door. And then you walk into the first room and there is the Rape of the Sabines. For me, it was a revelation. It's not as perfectly realized as the David. It's raw and powerful.
On the way to the David is a Pieta realized by one of Michaelangelo's students. The proportions are off and who gives a fuck. It's amazing.
There are benches everywhere and no hurry to leave. I sat and looked at the David for half an hour.
And in a corner? A painting of Venus and Cupid with the most lush, curvy woman I've ever seen. Hail, Venus! That's what I'm talking about.
Beautiful. Worth every penny of 10 Euro. Every damn penny.
* * *
Last night was the other reason why I came.
I stayed out till nearly midnight, having run into three other artists. We sat in the little cafe on the corner and talked art and culture for hours. I was the youngest one there.
My mind's rather blown. LA is the land of the young. If you're over 30, there's a bit of an attitude that your career is over. But here, surrounded by other artists?
This is a life with longevity. How about that?
And then I got back to my room and a concert by Genesis was playing on one of the channels. Yay, Phil Collins!
* * *
This morning, I called home. Spoke to my family. I miss them more than ever, but I now have a bag filled with tiny presents for them.
My Mouse said to me clearer than she's ever spoken, "I love you, Momma. I miss you."
I wish they were all here with me.
* * *
This ran long, but that's okay.
More pictures: http://www.flickr.com/photos/angelanhunt
Ciao, everyone!
