Museumers and Our Museuming

I grew up in a home filled with one-of-a-kind pieces of art created by my parents, who at every opportunity encouraged my siblings and me to express ourselves artistically.

From a young age, my brother Owen leaned towards theater, I think because it involved so many tools. He has become an extremely well-liked college professor and specialist in the field of technical theater direction. Owen is freaking brilliant because and he makes bacon baskets.

Aside from being a valued employee and devoted mother and wife, in her spare time my sister Katie is a published author, creative blogger about life on Cabbage Ranch, and painter. (Jesus, she must be exhausted.)

All three of us have in our own unique way pursued the arts, either as a profession or a hobby (or in the case of these insanely money-making blogging ventures, a little of both...).

It stands to follow, then, that I take every opportunity to visit art museums with friends and family and and have learned there are two types of art appreciationists*: Fast Museumers and Slow Museumers.

Fast Museumers

A Fast Museumer stands in front of each piece for about one second and possibly doesn't even stop moving past it. Cycle through the exhibit and move onto the next and hopefully end up in the cafe before the lunch crowd.

Perhaps we could generalize about Fast Museumers and say they don't actually want to linger, or have less of an appreciation for art; unfortunately I have been forced to -- momentarily -- Fast Museum due to the vast crowds visiting an exhibit.

In 2009, my dad and Joyce joined me in Amsterdam...

Dad picks his teeth the same way in both Europe and Illinois

...and naturally we visited the Van Gogh museum. Swarms of people stood in line, which was amusing to us since Joyce's knee injury and accompanying cane allowed us to go straight in. Once in the museum, we briskly took the laps determined by the crowd's orderly movement through each room. In and out in less than an hour. I guess it worked out because although some of Van Gogh's art is quite good...

The extremely lovely "Almond Blossoms"

... some of it sucks.

My dad assured me it's OK to not like famous art.

Slow Museumers

On the other hand, you might be a Slow Museumer if you do any of the following in art exhibits:

1. Read every word on every plaque beside every piece to learn about the medium, artist, year it was created, etc.
2. Consider the piece from different distances by pressing your nose right up to the piece (figuratively), then stepping back, and possibly even moving side to side in order to get a sense for the piece in 3 dimensions. Repeat steps 1-3 for full appreciation.
3. Contemplate the context of the art. What relationship, if any, did the artist have with his or her subject? Did the subject sit still? (And if so, HOW? For crying out loud, I've been trying to sit still for 30+ years.) How much did the artist charge for the piece? Was it really raining and he painted a sunny sky? What did that room smell like?
4. Know how to spot and critique bad art (without being a snob) - just because it's in a museum doesn't mean it's GOOD and you don't have to like them all
5. Never, ever say, "I could have done that" because if you could have, you would have, and even so, you didn't.

In conclusion, I blame credit my parents for the fact that I grew up to be a Slow Museumer. Be still my beating heart should I amble into a room of gigantic pieces -- I mean literally, 10'x15' or bigger -- by the Flemish masters. I LOVE the patina of the oil paints, the gaudy gilt frames, the brooding environs, and especially the pale moon-shaped faces of each subject.

Most appealingly for this genre, the great Flemish artists like Jan van Eyck rarely focused on religion. Instead, they painted the sometimes unattractive nobility of their time. If you could afford them, they would paint you. These guys were working for a living.

"Arnolfini Wedding" by Jan van Eyck

Anytime I stand before these pieces, I like to think about the transaction which led up to the sitting. The scene often plays through in my head (with generic northern European accents) and goes something like this:

Count Arnulf von Warbledon: "I have impregnated m'lady the Dutchess and shalt wish thine self to paint our portrait."
Jan van Eyck: "She's gonna think she looks fat."
Count: "M'lady hast a better attitude than thine. Paint our portrait, peasant!"
Jan: [to self] 'Jesus, settle the hell down.' [aloud] "That'll be $10,500. Cash or charge?"
Count: "I shall pay thee with a year's worth of wool and two chickens."

And... SCENE.

*Yeesh, I make up a lot of words.