Everyone's an (art) critic
What is good art?
It's a totally subjective question, I know. But sometimes I can't help but feel a bit inadequate when I fail to appreciate abstract works presented as "art" in a museum.
When I was back in Minnesota last week I made a trip to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, and it was there that I realized something: the art that I like either tells an obvious story or has a fascinating history.
I don't get goosebumps from total abstractness, and if that makes me uncultured or not "new age" enough, then I guess I'll have to live with that.
Here's what I mean about history. Check out this painting above by Degas.
It's a beautiful painting of a young child, but when you learn the story behind the story, it becomes captivating (at least for me).
Apparently master Degas liked to visit his friend's family in the English countryside. On one visit he forgot his canvases. Not able to be without his work, the family provided Degas with the lining of a mattress, which he then used to paint young Hortense.
Years later, Hortense recounted this anecdote. Art historians scoffed at this story, saying it was charming but virtually impossible. It wasn't until the painting was being re-framed that blue stripes were found at the edges of the painting, consistent with a mattress lining.
Hearing that story made me like this paining even more.
It was fascinating to wander around the Mpls. Institute of Arts, a place I hadn't been in ages. So many of the works were nostalgic for me.
I remember studying them in elementary school through Partners in Art, a special museum outreach program teaching art history to young children.
Perhaps the painting that stirred the most emotions in me was Lucretia, this 1666 work by Rembrandt.
Lucretia was a noblewoman who was raped by an evil Roman ruler. To preserve her reputation and the name of her family, she told her husband and her brother what had happened and then committed suicide in front of them by plunging a dagger into her heart.
The gravity of her actions spurred her community into action and led to the overthrow of the Roman monarchy.
Can you believe that they presented this painting to 3rd graders at my elementary school?
I remember being so affected by the sallowness of her face and the defeat in her eyes. Our teacher decided to choose another painting to talk about when she saw how disturbed we were.
So it was pretty amazing to go back to the museum last week and see this painting that evoked such emotion in my 9-year-old heart. I stood near it for awhile, awed by Rembrandt's skill in conveying Lucretia's emotion. The angst and torment is palpable.
I'm not saying I'd want to hang that painting in my living room--it is a pretty depressing story. But moving nonetheless.
And I know some of you are wondering given my reputation, but yes, you can take pictures of all the paintings belonging to the Institute. I only got in trouble with the museum police once, and that was for taking a picture of a painting on loan (how was I supposed to know??)
It's a totally subjective question, I know. But sometimes I can't help but feel a bit inadequate when I fail to appreciate abstract works presented as "art" in a museum.
When I was back in Minnesota last week I made a trip to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, and it was there that I realized something: the art that I like either tells an obvious story or has a fascinating history.
I don't get goosebumps from total abstractness, and if that makes me uncultured or not "new age" enough, then I guess I'll have to live with that.
Here's what I mean about history. Check out this painting above by Degas.
It's a beautiful painting of a young child, but when you learn the story behind the story, it becomes captivating (at least for me).
Apparently master Degas liked to visit his friend's family in the English countryside. On one visit he forgot his canvases. Not able to be without his work, the family provided Degas with the lining of a mattress, which he then used to paint young Hortense.
Years later, Hortense recounted this anecdote. Art historians scoffed at this story, saying it was charming but virtually impossible. It wasn't until the painting was being re-framed that blue stripes were found at the edges of the painting, consistent with a mattress lining.
Hearing that story made me like this paining even more.
It was fascinating to wander around the Mpls. Institute of Arts, a place I hadn't been in ages. So many of the works were nostalgic for me.
I remember studying them in elementary school through Partners in Art, a special museum outreach program teaching art history to young children.
Perhaps the painting that stirred the most emotions in me was Lucretia, this 1666 work by Rembrandt.
Lucretia was a noblewoman who was raped by an evil Roman ruler. To preserve her reputation and the name of her family, she told her husband and her brother what had happened and then committed suicide in front of them by plunging a dagger into her heart.
The gravity of her actions spurred her community into action and led to the overthrow of the Roman monarchy.
Can you believe that they presented this painting to 3rd graders at my elementary school?
I remember being so affected by the sallowness of her face and the defeat in her eyes. Our teacher decided to choose another painting to talk about when she saw how disturbed we were.
So it was pretty amazing to go back to the museum last week and see this painting that evoked such emotion in my 9-year-old heart. I stood near it for awhile, awed by Rembrandt's skill in conveying Lucretia's emotion. The angst and torment is palpable.
I'm not saying I'd want to hang that painting in my living room--it is a pretty depressing story. But moving nonetheless.
And I know some of you are wondering given my reputation, but yes, you can take pictures of all the paintings belonging to the Institute. I only got in trouble with the museum police once, and that was for taking a picture of a painting on loan (how was I supposed to know??)
posted by Nicole at 1:06 AM
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