Met Exhibition

I confess to being one of the philistines that show up at the art galleries for those blockbuster shows. Yes, I know there’s been great art made in THIS century too, but like the jazz I heard behind classic cartoons, the impressionists are the painters I saw as a young dog and have been trying to channel ever since. I was not disappointed by the Masterpieces of the Met show at the MFAH. I love the pictures, the crowds, and am always thrilled to know that more Americans visit art galleries than attend pro football games.

These paintings were made between 1800 and 1920, some give a sampling of the Realist school that eschewed religious/mythological subjects and instead looked to elevate the common people or skewer the bourgeoisie, and needed no excuse to paint nude figures. Oh, the nudes; these women were ample; zaftig. Not like today’s models, that could be extras on the set of a death camp movie.

Some showstoppers here;
Jean Bastien LePage’s Joan of Arc, a hundred square foot canvas, looked to me split in the middle, as if she, beset by angels, turns from her spinning, upsets her chair, and steps into the world she is about to change.

And Gustav Moreau’s Oedipus and the Sphinx; what gets me on this one is the story; Oedipus answers the Sphinx’s riddle to save the city. What monsters do we face today, and who has the answers to the riddles they pose?

Van Gogh’s Cypresses, from the last year of his mad life, when he painted 100 pictures, has the same swirling skies as Starry Night or Wheat Field under Threatening Skies.

Renoir’s Young Girl with Daisies attracted a lot of eyeballs. I would have named that one Young Girl with Jugs.

And the show ends with two by Modigliani; the notes on one tell of the suicide of his wife upon his death from consumption. But the last canvas is his Reclining Nude, this stylized figure looks human and appealing. I’m startled, and wonder if this means that someday I’ll “get” cubism too.

This show goes home to New York on May 7th.