London: National Gallery

As we arrived in the West End, one building you can't miss from Trafalgar Square is the imposing National Gallery. The building is the third to house the National Gallery and was designed by William Wilkins from 1832-1838. There are additions to it that are far more contemporary and even somewhat controversial in design. (By the way, for a great post about Trafalgar Square, visit Mike's A Bit About Britain here. In fact, for anything related to England, make sure you stop at Mike's blog! His posts are terrific, well researched and filled with loads of fun trivia bits you wish you knew before you visited!)

It also houses one of the most magnificent art collections in the world.

One could spend days at the National Gallery. We didn't have that much time, having first enjoyed the guitar exhibit at Canada House. So we opted for some of the classics and older pieces, starting with some of the beautiful religious pieces.

I was sitting down during our trip, Rick wheeling me through, so most of my photos are a tad off kilter, shooting "up" and I don't have all the names of the pieces I'm sharing here, but this is a sample of what we enjoyed.

I particularly liked the colors and delicacy of this one, although that's one pretty ugly baby face and out of proportion to the skinny body. But I do love the fruit.

The goldwork here was tasteful and quite lovely.

Moving forward in time, this is my favorite of all of Leonardo's work, the reason why I wanted to visit the National Gallery the first time in 1973 and the reason I wanted to go back. It is his interpretation of the Madonna with Saint Anne.

The painting is in a small room with another of my favorite Leonardos, The Madonna of the Rocks.

When the large tour group admiring this painting left, I could get a better view!

Just look at that fabulous face!

I should remember who did this and the title -- it's one I've always loved. Laura Ingalls Gunn, feel free to weigh in on any of this. Your art history degree is far more current than my studies long ago!

Another of my favorites is Jan Van Eyck's Marriage of Jan Arnolfini and his Wife. (Also: The Arnolfini Marriage, The Arnolfini Wedding and The Arnolfini Portrait.) I'm pretty sure you can't see this in the photo unless you can click it to original size but if you look at the convex mirror in the back, you see the image from the back of the wedding couple.

It also seemed to attract quite a following. Maybe not Mona Lisa crowds, but certainly seemed to be a favorite of others.

I did find this painting of Saint Barbara dong in 1437 quite different from much of Van Eyck's work and rather enigmatic. The palm branch in her hand indicates her martyrdom.  Although signed and dated on the original frame, it is unknown whether the artist considered it finished. I find it perfect. (Just think of that -- over 500 years old, closer to 600, and still so beautiful.)

Vermeer is a favorite of mine. I'd already seen one of his at Kenwood, again with an instrument. This one spoke to me...

...as did this one.

I don't remember who did this one. We didn't have time for the gift shop but if we had, I would have bought something that featured this painting. The faces are so trusting and you can just feel the relationship.

I'm also fond of the artists from the Netherlands, like Landscape with Travellers and Peasants on a Track, done in 1610 by Jan Brueghel the Elder.

...and this wonderful piece by Hendrick Avercamp. This is the kind of painting that really lets your imagination go. I can envision showing this to a group of writing students and letting them develop stories for one or more of the characters.

And of course there were the Rembrandts. He had quite the section of his portraits. Also from the Netherlands, Rembrandt aspired to paint biblical subjects, considered more prestigious than portraits. But after he settled in Amsterdam he enjoyed tremendous success in portraiture.

He did at least 40 self portraits. We saw one at Kenwood. Here is another...

...and another.

And this is his wife, Saskia.

Much of the rich collection of Impressionist work in England is at the Tate Britain. But here is a VanGogh you may recognize...

...or perhaps you prefer one of his sunflowers.

And of course, there is Monet, painting Paris' Gare St. Lazare.

 We could have gone on and on, enjoying the Turners (they are enormous) and Raphaels, Rubens and Titians. Constables, Gainsboroughs, Renoirs and more. But it was getting dark.

Time to go to the theatre!

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When Money Talks

Let me preface this to say I sort of hate trash-talking things about my community that are supposed to be good or a big deal. It seems sort of churlish. But Rick and I recently visited our contemporary art museum, the Eli and Edythe Broad Art Museum at Michigan State University.

Let me also say now (and probably again) art -- all art, whether it is the written word, a painting, an installation, a piece of music or that incredibly complicated quilt you have been working on -- is subjective. People will love, hate or feel indifferently about it. And it's all OK.

I tend to take a broad interpretation of art and basically believe pretty much life is art -- that includes gardens, cooking, painting, writing and much more. One can argue art and craft. I think the best artists apply both creativity and technical expertise. And everyone's version of good or bad within that broad category of art will vary based on subjective preference and perhaps objective examination.

So settle in -- there are elements of rant here but the photo part at the beginning is the preface for my concern and overall feeling about this so-called jewel in MSU's crown that I would say is no better than a rhinestone. Or perhaps a nice cubic zirconia. The meat of my displeasure comes after the photos.

Look hard and you might see the name of the museum on this panel by the entrance. Or maybe not. It's the Eli and Edythe Broad Art Museum on the Michigan State University campus.

Rick and I decided to spend a gloomy afternoon a week or two ago at the museum. It's been here a few years and we've never seemed to find the time or inclination to visit but we were really bored. And very curious, so off we went and our reactions were baffled to say the least.

I don't think I'm smart enough to like or understand most of the work I saw in this museum. I know I'm not pretentious enough. Being an art history minor didn't help. At least this one was colorful. I don't understand it but it was a refreshing change of pace.

Don't get me wrong. I like much 20th century art, even the sort of out-there stuff. I'm not big on installations (doesn't any museum recognize good old 2-D art anymore?) But I need it to make sense to me. I don't go to art museums to work hard. Some people do. I go to art museums to enjoy, to savor, to smile.

We weren't smiling. Mostly we were scratching our heads, giggling and screwing our faces into that WTF expression we've all done now and then. Well, if provoking reaction is part of the mission, they got points for that.

I'll start off with the exterior by an architect named Zaha Hadid who died last year. (Personally, I think she was knocked off by a group of East Lansing-ites who are totally pissed off at this building, which rests in the heart of the most lovely of campuses with classic brick buildings.) There might be a place for it over by the performing arts complex which is quite contemporary (and I might add, lovely). But no. To get the money from the Broads, and it was a lot of money, it had to be in a prominent place. (Hold onto that thought -- there is some meat to this post at the end through our walk through about how money talks...)

Well, it is right in the heart of old campus on the main drag, Grand River Avenue. You can't miss it. Some call it the spaceship. I call it the Big Ugly. Which is also what I call the neighbor's house at the lake. Ironically, if this looked like the neighbor's house, I might be less irritated with it. It's context -- this belongs on Grand River like the neighbor's house belongs on a quiet lake with little cottages. But I digress.

You go in and see this display, below.

OK. A little odd but colorful. I can actually work with this. In the right basement it would be kind of cool.

And then these odd shaped rooms that were practically empty. I realized I had this exhibit in my very own home.

Only mine are more artistically (and chaotically) arranged with a bit more color. Maybe I missed my calling.

There was one place where an art student got to pick a favorite piece from the collection (I'm not sure if this was the original collection, which is in hiding or Broad's permanent collection) and highlight it with a statement. I wish I'd taken a photo of it. (I didn't like it but actually, it wasn't horrible.) Only the statement was horrible, which was filled with the pretentiousness of a young artist who is trying too hard to be sophisticated and intellectual.

Now you can say that's OK but to me an artist's statement should not require a dictionary. It should be a clear, concise statement or interpretation of their style or the work on which they are commenting. (This exhibit was next to the comic books -- about a dozen of them. And those made a LOT more sense to me to be in this area than most anything else.)

There was a film that was all computerized of a woman who seemed to do little. Another film with audio of people walking through a home or gallery and talking but all you saw was the exterior of the building. I'm sorry, but I don't have time to stand around and watch that. (I will say some people were laughing, so someone liked it. Art is subjective.)

And this thing -- which I rather liked, but it had no context. And you'll note it was in an empty room. (There was a small projector on the floor that seemed to do nothing -- at least, nothing related.) I'd buy one of those in a heartbeat for the back yard if it didn't cost an arm and a leg. I'm not saying the room should be cluttered but what a waste of space. (Hold onto that thought.)

There was one room I could appreciate. Although, when I walked in and saw this...

...I wasn't so sure. But when I read the clear and concise description of this I thought, "I'll give her a pass on execution because the concept makes sense." But again, you shouldn't have to read the cliff notes beside the art to get the gist of it.

There was much related to civil rights in this room and here are a few pix.

And some memorabilia.

This one really broke my heart.

The gift shop was small but it wasn't bad.

So, what's this all about?

I repeat. I know that art preference is as subjective as beverage selection. You like all wine but really love the reds. Or you hate the reds and roses, but white is OK. Or you don't drink it at all, you'd rather have a beer or a soda or a malt. We've often said that sometimes beverages are too pretentious -- notes of turpentine, charcoal and chocolate blend with almonds, cherries and kumquats for a unique flavor experience. Yeah, but does it taste good to you?

So, I understand that someone else is going to see this and think "what far out, thoughtful, deep artists these are." And it will resonate with them. Maybe you.

But mostly, it looks like a waste of space. And there is another, more critical, reason why that is a travesty.

When the Broad opened, MSU's smaller but exquisite Kresge Art Museum was closed. They had a wonderful collection that ranged from the very old to very nice 20th century art. Maybe even 21st century. All of that stuff is either in storage in vaults under the football stadium (ironic) or sold. Who knows?

The Kresge collection included 7,500 works of art and these are not on display. Works by Dali, Calder, Rodin, a Joseph Cornell box, all would be suitable for Broad. Unless it's not contemporary enough.

Initially, the thought was there would be a space for the Kresge Collection at the new museum. It's worth millions of dollars and deserves to be seen (and this is where  money talks). But there is no gallery for the historic collection, though supposedly faculty can access it for research. There was some talk of making the collection available online but as of this writing, the links do not work. Means of using them in the museum for historical context do not appear apparent in our visit.

So, remember that empty room with the kind of cool looking pottery jars holding shrubbery? Suppose that -- in a non-cluttered or distracting but enhancing way -- there was a piece or two on each wall from the Kresge Collection that reflected vessels or greenery or nature. It would provide context and use the space more efficiently without the overwhelming volume you get in a truly great museum with a large collection. (If you have ever done the Louvre in an entire day, you either didn't see a thing or had to see a masseuse after for your hips, legs or feet.)

In an excellent article in the Lansing City Pulse back when the museum was built, writer Lawrence Cosentino interviewed then-director Michael Rush, who told him:

"The founders, Eli and Edythe Broad, gave their money to support a contemporary art museum on the campus of MSU. That's the basic reality. When you have philanthropists entering the situation at that level of giving, which is extraordinary, and it is the donor intent for the museum to be a contemporary one, then that is what we embrace."

But is that right?

To be honest, I fault our university for giving donors so much power. Money talks, whether it is Goldman Sachs in politics or Eli Broad in art, a lobbyist for General Motors or Harvey Weinstein as he sexually assaults women wanting to work in the film industry. And at no place does money talk more than at Michigan State University. It's my alma mater and I love much of it and support financially more than one project/department/service of the U, but I despise the commercialism that seems to take over, on more than one occasion, common sense and the greater good.

From where I sit, there comes a time when that simply isn't right. It's all well and good if it's someone's pet project for a private institution. You want to build your big art museum in our town, great. Knock yourself out -- it's your project.

But Michigan State is a public university (or so they say). And it's aggressive in its fundraising tactics. I know because I worked for a department that had to raise its own money -- but we never caved.

As aggressive and annoying as public broadcasting fundraisers and direct mail can be (and it is, nationwide -- and if we had a TV tax in this country like the Brits, it would probably lighten up... another topic, another time) -- we never gave in to a program underwriter to influence news coverage or programming. In fact, unless things have changed since I got out of the business, even if we liked the idea and decided to do a television program about it, we couldn't accept underwriting from that person for that program nor could they have editorial control.

If one looks at a museum on a campus it strikes me that if there is only ONE art museum (or history, or whatever topic), and to be in the best interests of the students it serves, the museum should reflect the broadest scope of an area, whether it is art or natural history. Certainly there will may be emphasis on a topic or period as the displays evolve. But a student studying art history should be able to go into the U's only museum and see a works from the 1500s or a work from 2015, study them, form their own opinions.

I always thought that if a friend came to town who had never been here and I was doing the tour, I would add this to the list. I won't. The good news is that within two hours we can go to wonderful, diverse art museums in Detroit, Grand Rapids and Toledo. And that's what we plan to do.

Celebrating the Light of Vermeer

If I was to make a list of wonderful small museums well worth your time, I would put Vermeer Centrum in Delft (or Vermeer Center) at the top of the list.

To call it a museum is an overstatement, because "museum" implies you might actually see some original Vermeer paintings there.

You won't. You'll see reproductions of every painting he did, some great multimedia presentations and some excellent and very accessible analytic interpretations of his work.

If you're not a Vermeer fan, a quick overview. Johannes Vermeer was a Dutch painter who specialized in scenes of middle class life (although he also did some landscape work.As artists go, he produced relatively few paintings, and was in debt at his death in 1675.

He lived in Delft and if anything seems particularly striking about a Vermeer painting it is the color and light.

He mixed his own colors himself from items that came from the apothecary.

 

A splendid display at the Center outlines the colors he used and how they were mixed.

A particular favorite combination of colors were blue and yellow, which are often seen in his paintings. As an artist, this area was of particular interest to me. 

A personal anecdote -- an old Army buddy of my father was an artist and he studied how the old masters mixed their materials and tried to paint in the same ways. He did a pretty darned good forgery of The Girl with the Pearl Earring, which he gave my parents long ago. It now hangs in my guest room.

After Vermeer's death, his work went out of style and wasn't rediscovered until the 1800s. He is now considered one of the great painters of the Dutch Golden Age, with work in many museums, including the Rijksmuseum, the Louvre and the Detroit Institute of Arts.

The Center focuses in part on his family life -- his wife, Catherine (sometimes listed as Catharina), gave him 14 children. He married into money and his mother-in-law, Marina Thins, was fairly aggressive in her support of his art. It is presumed that it was she who insisted he convert to Catholocism. Fourteen children followed.

The family moved in with Maria Thins. The house is now a private residence, but is still standing on Oude Langendijk in Delft. His paintings were done in this house.

If you are familiar with his work, you'll note that there are many portraits and scenes of daily life. The Vermeer Center has copies of all his works and an area that simulates his area where subjects would pose.

 

Using a camera obscura (it is not certain whether Vermeer actually used this object or not), you can pose and see how the light might affect a painting.

 

Here's a slightly different view of the same image.

 

 It was fun to put yourself in the picture! I'd love to take that light home with me every day!

 

When you see his paintings in a museum, it might be surprising how small they are. Even framed, they were rarely larger than 20x30 and many were much smaller.

But, as the exhibits show, they were filled with symbolism. This one shows how emblems are used to convey certain meanings relevant for the time. In this case, the messages pertain to love. (Click to see full size and read the description.)

For example, this display talks about unattainable love.

The painting contains various clues indicating that the subject is reading a love letter. 

Musical instruments symbolize sensual love, the broom symbolizes living together unmarried and there are indications in the paintings on the wall that are symbols of love. According to the display, the ship refers to the absence of a traveler and the man on land is walking away on a sandy path, both unreachable.

Much is also made of his use of perspective. This drawing explained how he ued angular perspective with two vanishing points instead of one. Even the way he creates the tiled floor adds to the dimension.

(The display also noted that in Vermeer's time, perspective was known as "see-through skill" -- you have to be able to see through walls and the frame of the painting to be able to use it. He and his contemporaries used lengths of string and chalk as tool to help them "see through."

Extra Treats!

For more on the book and film "Girl with the Pearl Earring," please visit this splendid post on Arti's blog.

For more on Delft, including some lovely videos about Vermeer Center and the town, check out this link.

A Personal Note

I'm sorry I've not been around to more of you lately, but I will catch up. Rick has been in the hospital, I haven't been at my best, work is crazy. I SO appreciate your visits and your hanging in there with me. It means more than you know.