Sometimes art is a crooked motivational sports poster that doesn’t lay flat, no matter the amount of painter’s tape.
Sometimes art is a crooked motivational sports poster that doesn’t lay flat, no matter the amount of painter’s tape.
There’s a whole LIST on the back of an old receipt somewhere called, “Stuff I Should Have Come Up with First, and Someone Beat Me to the Punch!” And so let’s just add Marion Deuchars to my list. She has a book called “Draw, Paint, and Print like the Great Artists.”
I mean, I’m all for Matisse. The idea of painting without the mess? I’m intrigued…but you’re saying all I need to have in my craft box is crappy construction paper and some scissors to assimilate a world-famous artist? I’ll tell you what, Marion, I went more above and beyond in my program guides when I was an underpaid intern.
Come on, Marion — you use Frida, for crying out loud. You’re not going to have us get hit by a bus, endure 30+ surgeries, or paint ourselves with a rented monkey? No domestic feuds with a terribly unattractive male counterpart!? Yeesh, so boring. I’ll just paint me yawning in one of these decorative frames.
Below are 5 steps the Washington Post‘s Phillip Kennicott wants you to take along in your satchel as you head out to museums today.
1. Take time.
The raging debate today about whether to allow the taking of pictures inside the museum usually hinges on whether the act of photographing is intrusive or disruptive to other visitors; more important, the act is fundamentally disruptive to the photographer’s experience of art, which is always fleeting. So leave all your devices behind. And never, ever make plans for what to do later in a museum; if you overhear people making plans for supper, drinks or when to relieve the baby sitter, give them a sharp, baleful look.
First of all, Phillip — is this debate really raging? I mean, I’m all for leaving ridiculously-oversized cameras that flash at home, but I don’t know you expect my friends to know where I am if I don’t geotag a Gauguin with a “Ugh. Hashtag hate!” caption.
2. Seek silence
Always avoid noise, because noise isn’t just distracting, it makes us hate other people.
Yes. Just always, yes.
3. Study upOne of the most deceptive promises made by our stewards of culture over the past half century is: You don’t need to know anything to enjoy art…So study up. Even 10 minutes on Wikipedia can help orient you and fundamentally transform the experience.
Or me. You’re welcome.
4. Engage memory
Always try to remember the name of and at least one work by an artist whom you didn’t know before walking into the museum.
This is actually easier when you bring your smartphone, Phillip.
5. Accept contradiction
Some practical advice: If you feel better about yourself when you leave a museum, you’re probably doing it all wrong.
Unless you break all of these rules…which I plan to do.
Sure, Bernini, I know this is supposed to be Poseidon taking Persephone into the underworld, but in reality, it’s Monday…coming for us all. You go, Persephone, put up that fight!
Happy birthday, Alicia Silverstone! Thank you for gifting us with calling someone a Monet and falling for Paul Rudd. Even now, whatta Baldwin.
Being in Washington, DC, I’m pretty used to walking into museums and walking straight out just because they’re free. But sometimes, when I’m feeling like money is no object (which seems to occur one business day after the 15th and 30th of each month…), I do swanky, suave things like unnecessary online shopping and paying admission.
No, but really: One of my most favorite destinations in our nation’s capital is the Phillips Collection. Turns out their Chief Curator stepped down earlier this week — Eliza Rathbone, pictured above, said the following in response to announcing a successor:
No; I don’t think the museum is looking to hire a chief curator, per se…the Phillips is well prepared to carry on with wonderful shows, and I’ll be very much involved in its future—just in a slightly new capacity.
Coy, ‘Liza. You know I’m just gonna go ahead and wait for my phone call.
Read more about the Phillips’ darling, Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party, here.