I’m not sure why I’m sticking my neck out to write today’s post.
Well, that’s not entirely true.
The subject moves me tremendously; which is to say I may ramble on incoherently about art and look the fool, but I’m nonetheless compelled to share that which speaks to me (now that I finally have the time in my life to listen).
I know just enough about art and art history to know I’m been culturally challenged for most of my life. I could use my dominant left brain as an excuse, but my right brain refuses to throw in the towel despite the classic fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants approach. The more I try to talk about (or around) art, the more apparent it becomes that I essentially know next to nothing when it comes to the subject.
See! I’m doing the incoherent ramble thing already!
Whatever!
Despite my cultural shortcomings and my ramblings, I’m living proof that it doesn’t matter if you don’t “know” art. You’ll know if the art moves you; that’s what really matters. If it truly moves you, you'll want to “know” more about the artist; maybe even the artist's contribution to the history of art.
I discovered I wanted to know more when my own cultural revolution began. I wasn’t just moved by this pivotal painting; I remember being completely blown away. My right brain did cartwheels! And then my left brain said, ‘Wait. I need details!’
The beauty of it all? It started with a kiss.
Well, that’s not entirely true.
The subject moves me tremendously; which is to say I may ramble on incoherently about art and look the fool, but I’m nonetheless compelled to share that which speaks to me (now that I finally have the time in my life to listen).
I know just enough about art and art history to know I’m been culturally challenged for most of my life. I could use my dominant left brain as an excuse, but my right brain refuses to throw in the towel despite the classic fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants approach. The more I try to talk about (or around) art, the more apparent it becomes that I essentially know next to nothing when it comes to the subject.
See! I’m doing the incoherent ramble thing already!
Whatever!
Despite my cultural shortcomings and my ramblings, I’m living proof that it doesn’t matter if you don’t “know” art. You’ll know if the art moves you; that’s what really matters. If it truly moves you, you'll want to “know” more about the artist; maybe even the artist's contribution to the history of art.
I discovered I wanted to know more when my own cultural revolution began. I wasn’t just moved by this pivotal painting; I remember being completely blown away. My right brain did cartwheels! And then my left brain said, ‘Wait. I need details!’
The beauty of it all? It started with a kiss.
Klimpt's, The Kiss (1907-1908) was pure bliss.
Of course, this was no ordinary kiss. This was Gustav Klimt’s (1862-1918), The Kiss.
Two and a half years ago, I’d known nothing of the Austrian painter before traveling halfway round the world to Vienna. God, I love field trips! I had no idea the controversy surrounding his erotic and exotic ‘Golden Period’ pieces; no idea his shimmering, geometric patterns helped launch early modernism.
All I knew, standing before this vibrant masterpiece (it measured 6 feet by 6 feet; my image succumbed to some cropping) hanging inside Vienna’s grand Österreichische Galerie Belvedere Museum was that I was mesmerized by its brilliance (the shimmering gold tones are the product of gold leaf applied on portions of the underlying oil paint); by its exquisite geometric patterns (my left brain did cartwheels, too); by its unabashed tenderness (and underlying passion) shared by these two lovers (my left and right brains shared a private moment of wedded bliss).
Weeks later I blogged about that emotional moment. Two years later, I’m still gaga over the lady and her lover.
When trailers for the movie, “Woman in Gold,” starring Helen Mirren, hit the media earlier this year, I recognized Klimt’s signature style and understood how another of his ‘Golden Pieces’ might be at the center of the fascinating true story involving the late Maria Altman and artwork stolen by the Nazis during the Holocaust.
There have been others since Gustav Klimt, most recently paintings by the largely self-taught, post-impressionist Vincent van Gogh, considered the greatest Dutch painter after Rembrandt. Knowing Van Gogh's history of mental illness (who hasn't heard Don McLean's touching ode to Vincent, Starry Starry Night?) and his impoverished and lonely existence simply imbued his paintings with a tenderness reflecting the beauty, emotion and color that signify van Gogh's genius. His art was his salvation, a noble endeavor that gave meaning, albeit posthumously, to his short life (he died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound at the age of 37).
Two and a half years ago, I’d known nothing of the Austrian painter before traveling halfway round the world to Vienna. God, I love field trips! I had no idea the controversy surrounding his erotic and exotic ‘Golden Period’ pieces; no idea his shimmering, geometric patterns helped launch early modernism.
All I knew, standing before this vibrant masterpiece (it measured 6 feet by 6 feet; my image succumbed to some cropping) hanging inside Vienna’s grand Österreichische Galerie Belvedere Museum was that I was mesmerized by its brilliance (the shimmering gold tones are the product of gold leaf applied on portions of the underlying oil paint); by its exquisite geometric patterns (my left brain did cartwheels, too); by its unabashed tenderness (and underlying passion) shared by these two lovers (my left and right brains shared a private moment of wedded bliss).
Weeks later I blogged about that emotional moment. Two years later, I’m still gaga over the lady and her lover.
When trailers for the movie, “Woman in Gold,” starring Helen Mirren, hit the media earlier this year, I recognized Klimt’s signature style and understood how another of his ‘Golden Pieces’ might be at the center of the fascinating true story involving the late Maria Altman and artwork stolen by the Nazis during the Holocaust.
There have been others since Gustav Klimt, most recently paintings by the largely self-taught, post-impressionist Vincent van Gogh, considered the greatest Dutch painter after Rembrandt. Knowing Van Gogh's history of mental illness (who hasn't heard Don McLean's touching ode to Vincent, Starry Starry Night?) and his impoverished and lonely existence simply imbued his paintings with a tenderness reflecting the beauty, emotion and color that signify van Gogh's genius. His art was his salvation, a noble endeavor that gave meaning, albeit posthumously, to his short life (he died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound at the age of 37).
The Kroller-Muller Museum represents van Gogh’s second home thanks to art collector Helene Kroller-Muller and her wealthy husband Anton. Helene regarded van Gogh as one of the ‘great spirits of modern art,’ collecting 91 van Gogh paintings and over 180 of his drawings between 1908 and 1929. Her estate is the second largest van Gogh collection in the world (second only to the van Gogh family's collection). Helene purchased over 11,500 art objects as she worked to create her own ‘museum-home,’ today’s Kroller-Muller Museum.
Among the vast collection of art objects that caught my eye (aside from all the van Gogh's, that is), several paintings by the world-famous Spaniard, Pablo Picasso;
Among the vast collection of art objects that caught my eye (aside from all the van Gogh's, that is), several paintings by the world-famous Spaniard, Pablo Picasso;
 Guitar 1919 |  Portrait of a woman 1901 |  Violin 1911-1912 |
and these two paintings by Paul Signac (1863-1935), who with George Seurat, sought to advance the principals of Impressionism by painting in a style that relied on optical effects called Pointillism (small dabs of intense color applied closely together on the canvas, using contrasting shades that appear to merge and shimmer when viewed from a distance).
 The dining room, Opus 152 1886-1887 |  Rotterdam, the mill, the canal, the morning 1906 |
After thirty minutes immersed in world renowned art, everything was merging and shimmering. My left brain was on sensory overload handling all the details. Even my right brain had given up the cartwheels. But there was no denying the beauty of the experience. A special thanks to the man of the hour, van Gogh!
To borrow a quote from an authority on the subject, “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” Thanks Picasso.
And I'd be remiss if I didn't thank Gustav Klimt!
To borrow a quote from an authority on the subject, “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” Thanks Picasso.
And I'd be remiss if I didn't thank Gustav Klimt!
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