Skip to main content

A Trip to New York

 When I was in my twenties and teaching at St. David's, I would visit the Met during free periods. I especially liked the Art of Africa and Oceania--because this wing was consistently empty, and because the art was so different from what I had studied in college.


Recently, for four years, the wing was closed--and now it's back. It's completely overwhelming. A special feature of the Met is its attention to "sight lines"--the rooms themselves should be works of art. So, for example, when you enter the Africa area, you see Oceania rearing its head in the distant background; you see monumental statues far, far away. It's like you are standing at the entrance of a cathedral.

Holland Cotter wrote about the two "figures of greeting"--which are important  to me. Although many of the African pieces are from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the two greeting figures are not; they go way, way back. They both seem to be people who are praying--but one has thrown his arms over his head, and the other is twisted up like a pretzel. If the pretzel figure is not praying, then perhaps he (or she) is in a state of deep anxiety (according to the Met).

These figures make me think of Degas's "Women Ironing"--one body expanding, one body contracting.

Also, although I don't pray, I recognize that there is often a link between wishing/hoping and anxiety. So I'm especially fond of the seated figure.

So very moving to see the renovations--and to see what's inside.






Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more

My Favorite Pop Song

  One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...."  I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...
Post a Comment
Read more