An Oh-So-Starry-Night and other works of art

…mostly above my head, but I try to be a good student.

Awesome (probably not a proper art critic word, but it's the most-fitting word that I know)

If you google “free stuff to do in New York,” you get a lot of hits.  Despite my health, I needed fresh air, so this evening, I actually took advantage of one of these offers.  On Fridays the Museum of Modern Art has free hours.

Now, I knew going in that anything with the words “modern art” is probably not going to be anything that I am going to enjoy too much, and I sort of was right.  But it was still a good time, especially since I spent a good two hours in a picturesque garden reading classical political philosophy and Little Women (still can’t believe Laurie ended up with Amy, although I haven’t finished it yet).

I did learn something important today though, I like art to tell a story.  That’s why I throughly gawked over the Norman Rockwell display at the Smithsonian last summer.  Every picture tells a story, a deep one.  Now, I am absolutely positive that everything in MoMa has a very important meaning, otherwise it would not be in a world famous museum, but there was a lot that I did not get.  I wandered to the top floor and there was a display of German art that included explanations of the pieces in relation to history.  I thought that was cool.  Then I got it.  I love art when I can see the story (like Rockwell) or when I see how it fits in a big story (like history).

My lack of deep appreciation for certain pieces is likely to come across like a freshman whining about having to read Shakespeare, and it is with that thought in mind that I wish to make very clear that I mean absolutely no disrespect.  I’m just being frank.  I figure that stating it how I see it might help me actually help me better understand it later.

Now, I love the Campbell’s soup label just as much as the next guy, but I don’t think I get Mr. Warhol much beyond that.

Despite years of Spanish class and my best efforts, Frieda Kahlo just makes me think of alabaster brows. (again, meaning no disrespect).

I probably shouldn’t admit online that I don’t really appreciate Picasso, but I really don’t.

I did really like Monet though.  I didn’t get it until I read the title of the piece, The Japanese Footbridge.  Then I saw it. (It’s better in person).

My evening was topped off by finally gathering enough courage to go into a nice restaurant and enjoy a meal by myself.  I’ve had some nice meals here, but always with company.  Getting the guts to go some place nice alone was totally new.  After dinner, I came home and found a good movie on netflix.

…And I’m feeling much better (minus that fact that I’m still barely eating)