hummingwolf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hummingwolf) wrote2010-11-29 08:19 pm
hummingwolf) wrote2010-11-29 08:19 pm
Mondays don't always get me down.
Because today was a bright and beautiful day with pleasing temperatures suitable for walking, because tomorrow and Wednesday are expected to be rainy and significantly less suitable for walking, because I felt as if I might have enough energy to go wandering about for a while, and because I had grown tired of the usual sights in my neighborhood, I decided that today would be a fine day to go into Washington, DC and enjoy myself for as long as seemed good to me.
It's one of those days when I don't quite remember exactly where I went, but I do know that I did walk through a bit of Chinatown. For those of you asking the inevitable question--"Washington, DC has a Chinatown?"--I shall quote the great Wikipedia: "It is known for its annual Chinese New Year festival and parade and the Friendship Arch, a Chinese gate built over H Street at 7th Street. Other prominent landmarks include the Verizon Center, a sports and entertainment arena, and the Old Patent Office Building, which houses two of the Smithsonian Museums." Yes, the Verizon Center is a Chinatown landmark. So there.
Anyway, I eventually wandered to the National Gallery of Art's Sculpture Garden, a delightful garden with sculptures by Alexander Calder, Roy Lichtenstein, and other artists actually known for their sculpture, as well as a variety of trees and plants (including some irises in full bloom). At the center of the garden is an ice skating rink, which was full of people having fun flying around on the ice on a day when the temperature was well above freezing. There was music playing and it was, of course, Christmas music; but since I quite like "O Holy Night" when it's sung by someone halfway decent, it didn't annoy me much.
Because I was already there, and because I remembered being close to the museum a month ago but unable to get there because of the sardine-packed crowd on the National Mall at the time, I decided to head into the National Gallery of Art. I spent most of my time in the exhibition titled "From Impressionism to Modernism: The Chester Dale Collection," though I did take detours into "German Master Drawings from the Wolfgang Ratjen Collection, 1580–1900." That's right: I never left the ground floor of the West Building. I didn't even make the pilgrimages to see Dali's "Last Supper" or the Calder mobile!
So anyway, having wandered into an exhibition with Impressionist paintings, it's only fair to give you some brief impressions:
Monet's brushwork makes me smile.
So does Pissarro's, at least in that one painting I remember seeing by him (with a title I forgot to make a note of).
Picasso, on the other hand, still doesn't interest me. Sorry.
In person, some of van Gogh's paintings remind me of my bad days, which makes sense given the whole epilepsy thing.
A man crashed into me while we were both admiring Renoir's "Odalisque." We were both unharmed, and he proceeded to rhapsodize about Renoir's life and painting in general. Like many other people, he was busily ignoring the many signs informing visitors that use of cameras and cell phones was prohibited in the exhibition areas. (At least no-one I saw was using a flash.)
Two other paintings that captured my eye and wouldn't let it go for a while: George Wesley Bellows' "Blue Morning" and Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot's "Forest of Fontainebleau."
And, while I knew my time was limited and I was focusing mostly on that one exhibition, I found myself going into a few other spaces to look more closely at sculptures by Paul Manship. Since it looks like the Smithsonian's American Art Museum has a better collection of his work, I guess I'll have to go there one of these days.
~~~~~
If you've been looking at Impressionist paintings and you exit the museum as the sun is setting, it would seem sacrilegious to leave without stopping to admire the sky. I walked slowly, finally coming to stand at the Navy Memorial where I could gaze up at the changing colors without getting in any commuter's way. I came home after dark, obviously, and now that I've eaten a supper of eggs, rice, and various veggies I'm feeling rather worn-out. It's been a very good day.
It's one of those days when I don't quite remember exactly where I went, but I do know that I did walk through a bit of Chinatown. For those of you asking the inevitable question--"Washington, DC has a Chinatown?"--I shall quote the great Wikipedia: "It is known for its annual Chinese New Year festival and parade and the Friendship Arch, a Chinese gate built over H Street at 7th Street. Other prominent landmarks include the Verizon Center, a sports and entertainment arena, and the Old Patent Office Building, which houses two of the Smithsonian Museums." Yes, the Verizon Center is a Chinatown landmark. So there.
Anyway, I eventually wandered to the National Gallery of Art's Sculpture Garden, a delightful garden with sculptures by Alexander Calder, Roy Lichtenstein, and other artists actually known for their sculpture, as well as a variety of trees and plants (including some irises in full bloom). At the center of the garden is an ice skating rink, which was full of people having fun flying around on the ice on a day when the temperature was well above freezing. There was music playing and it was, of course, Christmas music; but since I quite like "O Holy Night" when it's sung by someone halfway decent, it didn't annoy me much.
Because I was already there, and because I remembered being close to the museum a month ago but unable to get there because of the sardine-packed crowd on the National Mall at the time, I decided to head into the National Gallery of Art. I spent most of my time in the exhibition titled "From Impressionism to Modernism: The Chester Dale Collection," though I did take detours into "German Master Drawings from the Wolfgang Ratjen Collection, 1580–1900." That's right: I never left the ground floor of the West Building. I didn't even make the pilgrimages to see Dali's "Last Supper" or the Calder mobile!
So anyway, having wandered into an exhibition with Impressionist paintings, it's only fair to give you some brief impressions:
Monet's brushwork makes me smile.
So does Pissarro's, at least in that one painting I remember seeing by him (with a title I forgot to make a note of).
Picasso, on the other hand, still doesn't interest me. Sorry.
In person, some of van Gogh's paintings remind me of my bad days, which makes sense given the whole epilepsy thing.
A man crashed into me while we were both admiring Renoir's "Odalisque." We were both unharmed, and he proceeded to rhapsodize about Renoir's life and painting in general. Like many other people, he was busily ignoring the many signs informing visitors that use of cameras and cell phones was prohibited in the exhibition areas. (At least no-one I saw was using a flash.)
Two other paintings that captured my eye and wouldn't let it go for a while: George Wesley Bellows' "Blue Morning" and Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot's "Forest of Fontainebleau."
And, while I knew my time was limited and I was focusing mostly on that one exhibition, I found myself going into a few other spaces to look more closely at sculptures by Paul Manship. Since it looks like the Smithsonian's American Art Museum has a better collection of his work, I guess I'll have to go there one of these days.
~~~~~
If you've been looking at Impressionist paintings and you exit the museum as the sun is setting, it would seem sacrilegious to leave without stopping to admire the sky. I walked slowly, finally coming to stand at the Navy Memorial where I could gaze up at the changing colors without getting in any commuter's way. I came home after dark, obviously, and now that I've eaten a supper of eggs, rice, and various veggies I'm feeling rather worn-out. It's been a very good day.
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Glad you enjoyed your time out.
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I've never been a fan of Picasso, either. I think he's hugely overrated. And I've never seen that Bellows' painting -- thanks for the link!
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I can accept that Picasso was some kind of a revolutionary or something, but I don't have to like it.
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