If I ever return to NYC I will save myself lots of effort trying to find the best museum. I found it today. It was not the Jewish Museum with a retrospective of Art Speigelman, Pulitzer Prize winning cartoonist, although that museum came close to being the most inspirational of all I've seen so far. Speigelman's stuff is pretty raw but his output and meticulous attention to detail were impressive.
The winner of the best museum in NYC is the Metropolitan Museum Of Art. Hands down. No contest. End of discussion.
I had to laugh at myself, prominading past the Vermeers, Picassos, Closes, Remmingtons, and Pollacks to ogle the Rembrandts, Deurers, and Tiepolos. I felt positively disloyal to Hals, Liechtenstein, and Cassatt for not paying them the respect they deserve. But the offerings on display--acres of world class genius, creativity, and jaw dropping beauty--beckoned from every side including the ceiling! Bronze, marble, terra cotta, pastel, etchings, paintings, charcoal, and 101 other delights all screamed, "Look at me! Adire me! Love me!"
Before we had kids Vicki and I would visit the poster shops in the U District and one day we purchased our first classy piece of art, a Bouguereau (pictured below). When I saw his work today I choked up, missing Vicki like crazy. Museum prowling was one of our great joys.
Seeing world class art on line or in books is great but seeing Greco's brushstrokes up close makes one's heart stop. Seeing pencil lines etched 300 years ago and not entirely erased is like...like...words fail me. Suffice to say, one should spend a week in this museum soaking up the best human artistry has to offer.
I remember The Broken Pitcher (1891 by Bouguereau) hanging in "the old house" on 1st Avenue in Ferndale. I remember studying her face, her toes, her posture. I asked Mom why the girl looked so sad, and noticing for the first time that the water jug was cracked.
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