Unanswered questions

All summer I've been craving a visit to one of Chicago's great art museums. Though I enjoy seeing art on my own, I get more out of it by sharing the experience with someone else. One of the things I love most about art is it's ability to get my mental juices flowing and start a great conversation (even better if it turns into a great debate!) So, much as I'm perfectly capable of carrying out such a debate with myself (and often times do in the privacy of my own home), I feel it's best for the sake of the other patrons if someone else is there debating with me... wouldn't want to frighten anyone.

So I tried getting ahold of my good friend Matt Pearson way back in June to see if he wants to join me. Matt was my choice for a few reasons: 1. He was moving to Texas soon and I wanted to hang out before he left; 2. He was unemployed and therefore free to go on random weekdays like me; and 3. I discovered he was a good art buddy a few years ago when we attended a random private radiology function at the Art Institute and got to peruse the collections sans crowds. I don't remember the details of the artsy conversation that ensued at that event, but I remember that it was good conversation. Like the conversations I remember having with my friends growing up in Georgia. The type of conversation I've found it difficult to come by on an everyday basis (perhaps because my Georgia friends and I spent 2 hrs a day together in AP Art History... precisely 2 hrs more per day than I currently have to devote to such endeavors, but I digress).

Unfortunately, Matt is one of those people you have to book 3 months in advance to hang out with, so it never worked out for us to make it to the museum together. Fortunately, however, he had a membership to the Art Institute and gave me his membership card as a parting gift (I know, usually the person going away gets the parting gifts, but some rules were meant to be broken. And besides, I gave him a going away balloon).

Fast forward to last Wednesday. My best friend here in Chicago, Jes Hill, and I are having lunch and somehow it comes up that in the 4 years we've lived here she has never been to the Art Institute. Awesome! Museum buddy! I know from experience that Jes happens to be great museum buddy. I literally cannot count the number of museums we've been to together, because I simply cannot remember them all (we travelled Europe for a month together after graduating from Michigan and must have gone to every museum, church, and historic site in London, Athens, Milan, Berlin, Dresden, and Prague and everywhere in between!)

Jes is also usually one of those people you have to book 3 months in advance to hang out with, but luckily for me she was able to squeeze me in after a trip back home to the UP. So this past Thursday we went to the Art Institute and got cultured! It felt a little scandalous swiping us both in for free on Matt's old membership card, but then I realized it was free after 5 on Thursdays anyways (only an hour away), which quickly zapped all of the fun out of the scandal. I'm still not sure what to make of the fact that the girl at the counter didn't bat an eyelash (much less, ID me) when I handed her the card with "Mr. Matt Pearson" clearly printed on it, but I figured that either I could pass for a dude, or Matt has a reputation for showing up at the museum dressed in metallic flats and bright blue dresses. It's really a toss up on that one. Either way, Jes and I got in for free!

One thing that's great about going to museums with Jes is that we have pretty different tastes in art. She points things out to me that I would usually pass right by and vice versa. I like a lot of darker pieces that make me ask a lot of questions or create a sense of mystery, as well as modern art that forces me to ask myself, "What is art?" And any piece that can make me laugh is a winner too. Jes tends to gravitate towards more picturesque pieces that show a true mastery of technique and evoke a sense of calmness and serenity.

While I can't say I'll be hanging any Impressionist paintings (who am I kidding... posters. As if I could afford an Impressionist piece!) on my wall as a result of our museum visit, I do have a new-found appreciation of the still life. I always thought they were really boring because they don't tell me anything. And while I know that the point of a still life is not necessarily to tell me something, I discovered some interesting pieces that tell me just enough for me to know they're not telling me something too. Allow me to illustrate.

Kitchen Still Life, Paolo Antonio Barbieri c. 1640

I don't give a rat's ass about this painting. It just looks like a bunch of objects placed together on some table for a painter to try out different techniques for conveying texture. Yawn! Let's look at another example.

The White Tablecloth, Jean Baptiste Siméon Chardin, 1731

While it still doesn't knock my socks off, this one is a little more interesting. Not everything is so perfect. It looks like there is at least some life in this still life. But it still looks staged. Like it's trying to be interesting, rather than actually being interesting. Sort of like someone on reality TV trying so hard to be famous that they develop none of the traits that make them an interesting person to whom people want to give their atttention. Now let's look at a still life that's actually interesting.

Still Life, Pieter Claesz, c. 1625

What a difference! First off, the view is tight enough that the objects completely fill the space, and you can tell there might be something outside the frame. Second, it's not quite centered. What's under the table? Just to the right of the table? In front of the table? Third, everything is scattered about, unfinished. I find myself wondering, "What's going on here? Did something bad happen to whoever was preparing/eating this feast? Why didn't they didn't finish it? Were they not impressed with the offerings? Because, honestly, who cracks a nut only to leave it in pieces on the tablecloth? I mean, if you're gonna go to all that trouble to crack nuts and peel fruit, wouldn't you finish them?" I can't answer these questions and I love that!

Looking at this still life make me think of my favorite painting, Jan van Eyck's Arnolfini Wedding. I always find myself mentally revisiting this piece whenever another piece elicits a reaction from me.

The Arnolfini Wedding, Jan van Eyck, 1434

To me, The Arnolfini Wedding is able to capture so much in one piece: beauty, mystery, arrogance, tradition, but most of all, hope. Hope for fidelity. Hope for the successful merger of two powerful families. Hope for fertility, for heirs to carry on the family name and family business. Hope to possibly transcend the here and now and exist in infamy.

The Arnolfini marriage itself (what was known of it) seemed less than ideal. First off, Giovanni Arnolfini was not exactly the most faithful guy. In fact, he was sued by a mistress of his who was seeking to lay claim to houses he had promised her (Clearly he only said you could have that mansion to get you in bed, honey!) Giovanni essentially abandoned the family business in favor of politics. But the thing that's saddest to me is that the Arnolfinis died childless. What's not sad, however, is that despite having no heirs to carry on the family name and family business, the Arnolfinis managed the hardest feat: they managed to exist in infamy. And what's so beautiful is that it's the moment filled with so much hope that has outlived the Arnolfinis themselves, finding itself among the most famous pieces of art in all of Western History. How often is it that a moment is remembered almost 600 years after it passed?

It makes me wonder, "Will I have any moment that is remembered after I'm gone? Do I even want or need such a moment? What is the point of such a moment, if every other moment that comes after it is full of misery?" I can't answer these questions and I love that!