Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Must experience museums as they should be: spectacularly empty

The other morning, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Vincent van Gogh and I had a chat. I asked her about the straw hat and the blue cravat: Was she going for an urban bohemian look, or was it all about coming out as an outsider? We explained her mental state clearly. He looked a bit injured – I heard rumors about some strange behavior – but his eyes looked bright and untouched. Of course we mostly went about his art. Where did his work fit into modern painting of his era? Was there a next step in his mind towards Amartan in retrospect?

I admit that it was a long time before I tried to say this in depth with Van Gogh “Self-Portrait with Straw Hat,” Since 1887, one of the treasures of the Met. Over the years, every time I went to repay it – her – my honors, the crowd of fans had made it impossible to get close enough, long enough, for us to get any real understanding. But over the past few months, Kovid’s restrictions have severely limited attendance, with the world’s most famous museums giving their art a new opportunity to speak to us.

This is the moment to reestablish the grip of our great art collection: even though their special exhibitions begin to be replenished, it will be some time before their permanent collection gets crowded. As museums everywhere consider the future of their Kovid, their Kovid-troubled present takes us to a luxurious, more art-friendly past.

On my first visit to the great museums of New York nearly four decades ago, you could see any work without too much distraction or hindrance. My parents, the most die-hard of modernists, raised their children single-handedly, so I needed all the peace I could get with people, such as Van Gogh’s self- Portrait or photos of celebrating people. Hall can also be counted as art.

My teenager himself was not associated with the Met. At the Museum of Modern Art, I remember being thrilled by its modernist sights: Picasso’s shocking “Demociales deVignon,” The Magical of Matisse “piano Lesson, “Pollack’s manic”A: Number 31“On a recent Thursday afternoon once again, in an almost empty museum, I felt as if we had barely parted. While there have been many trips over the past decade, I felt as if I was with high-school friends Trying to roam, who have become so famous that they can hardly be seen through their entry.

The other afternoon at MoMA, realizing that as long as I could plant myself in front of the “demoswheel” without worrying about stopping all the people behind me, (there was none.) I got to do it. Long term Seeing that it really makes a painting come alive – to move beyond prior assumptions and clichés that we all come up with and, in fact, see with fresh eyes what the picture might be about. Including the 1907 “Demoiles”, which was credited with pushing Picasso towards his Cubist revolution, I had the time to ask myself why he made some women’s faces look like African masks in the last moment. This step gives us a lot of trouble today, as we get to grips with the West’s brutal history of colonialism and racism – and, as I realized the other afternoon, Picasso didn’t have to go there. The painting would have looked fine without those Africans; Cubism could have happened without them as well.

Even on Thursdays, ideally under uncontrolled conditions, it was not easy for me to clean my head to take in “Demoiles”, so imagine all the youngsters coming to Moma for the first time amid the adventures of ex-Kovid Do it What a chance that he had to think about anything, as he left his way in the presence of this “great art”.

For some time now, I’ve been talking about art objects as “machines for thinking”: our job as viewers is to turn them on, and it’s almost impossible to do that when you’re getting A crowd gets a glimpse through the gap.

All of this is doubly important with work that is so new to you that you don’t even have the cliché to fall back on. I had a situation on a recent morning, when I made my first trip to my old vintage Frick Collection Its new excavation in the modernist Breuer Building On Madison Avenue. (Frick’s old masters are due to live there for a few years as the collection’s Beaux-Arts mans have been remade.)

Like the Met and MoMA, Frick has fallen prey to its success in recent decades. As tourism in New York exploded, Old Frick’s home locations almost always seemed to be filled to full capacity, making it almost impossible to start any kind of refreshing conversation with its illustrious Vermeers and Titians. It can make it difficult for the crowd to notice less well-known works, which were tucked into distant corners as you aired. As each critic has said, Breaker has given Frick’s masterpieces new room to breathe; Its “lesser” items now have a chance to get your attention.

Due to Kovid restrictions, I was almost alone when I came upon the Bronze of the Renaissance that I was barely known in their old house. A small bronze hercules, By the sculptor, known as Antico, were all shiny surfaces; The hair was a delicious pile of gilt curls. On the same subject there was a rough surface of a nearby bronze by Giovanfrancesco Rustici, which seemed almost embossed. As I looked and thought, an explanation came to mind: both were trying to encapsulate images of bronze by their artistic ancestors in ancient Greece and Rome. Antico was imagining how proud those bronze would have been when they were new; Rustiki created his new works as if they had been buried for 1,500 years.

I would not say that I am thankful to Kovid for anything; Can’t make some miracle hours with art for the ones we have faced. But as I think we have learned from our trials – how to wash our hands; How to treasure the absentees – I wonder if our most popular museums will take their Kovid lessons to heart.

Will they try to return the 2019 appearances and ticket receipts, or will they think even more retroactively over time, to close encounters with those who once managed to calmly, with art? If returning to that situation means we should reserve a limited supply of timed tickets to visitors, as we do under Kovid – if that means museums need to reconsider decades of growth in buildings, budgets and programming, or We have to reverse – thank you for this, the art will be done by itself. They were tired of constant socialization; They are dying for some deep, one-on-one conversations.

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