HIGH, ATLANTA!

My visit to see the Vermeer marks my third trip to the High Museum. My first two visits were part of group trips to see traveling exhibits in college. With a group of other people, one cargo van, and a plan to return to campus before it got too late, I never really saw the permanent collections. After seeing the Vermeer first, I spent several hours walking through the permanent collection galleries. The High has wonderful holdings in 18th and 19th century American and European art, decorative arts, folk art, contemporary art, and African art. The majority of these galleries are in a wing designed by New York architect, Richard Meier. (Originally the whole museum, but now a wing, since the addition of three more buildings by Renzo Piano in 2002.) They are arranged off a spiraling ramp that goes up four floors. I hadn't looked over the High website before I left and was surprised to find a live drawing fundraiser happening in the atrium of the Stent Family Wing. Monster Drawing Rally was a 4 hour event. Roughly 20 - 25 artists spent one hours creating art. Whatever was made during that hour was for sale -- $75 per drawing. After the hour was up, there was a shift change, and a new group of artists sat down to create. People circled around the tables, chatted with the artists, and just watched people make work. A DJ spun soul 45s and the PBR tallboys flowed freely. It sounded like a bar, it smelled like a bar, but I was looking at marble statues and early American furniture. As I progressed up the spiral, I peeked over the railing to check on the progress of things.

Favorites from the permanent collection included:

Breughel the Elder, Holy Family with garland of flowers (Normally I don't go for paintings like this. It was one of those Dutch paintings with Those Dutch Flowers. I think floral arrangement paintings are boring. In fact, I skipped two in the Vermeer exhibition. HOWEVER, in the garland of flowers surrounding the Holy Family were insects. Lots of insects. Points to Breughel for a little reality and humor.)

William Stanley Haseltine, Nahant -- Egg Rock (I am always down for a good watercolor and pencil sketch. Haseltine is good at suggesting a lot with a few pencil marks.) 

Joseph Rodefer Decamp, The Blue Mandarin Coat (It reminded me a little of the Vermeer portrait I had just seen and Seargant's painting of Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth.)

Folk Art by Howard Finster (Favorites included Bust of Shakespeare, Horses like No one on Earth Has Seen, and his painted briefcase. My Day Job has brought me into contact with several of Howard Finster's works. I didn't really get them or like them until this day. One painting looks crazy. Thousands of paintings is a body of work. His leather briefcase was painted on all sides with colorful faces and figures, and could have held more than its own next to a Steven Sprouse Vuitton bag. I really want to visit his Paradise Garden this year.)

Maarten Baas, Real Time (A video of the artist painting and changing a digital clock in real time to reflect the time change over a 12 hour period. Also...available as a mobile app)

Nellie Mae Rowe, Plant Sketches ( I like the simplicity of these drawings in marker and crayon. Her tree drawings reminded me of the trees that Margaret Kilgallen drew on walls and the sides of trains, and the stylized weeping willows that sometimes appear on headstones.)

Marble and Rain

A View from the Top

All of the profits form the Monster Art Rally go to a fund used for purchasing art by Atlanta artists. Neat. Well done, High Museum. I had a great day.

I've participated in several museum art fundraisers here in Knoxville and even a live painting one this spring. But this set up appealed to me -- many artists+ less time = more spontaneity. More exposure for artists, and more artists participating. The KMA Art on Tap event only had 5 working painters. For the sake of having a finished 30" x 30" painting, we all arrived to event set-up with paintings 80-90% completed. I feel like people may have gotten bored eventually with watching 5 people paint almost-finished paintings, and this type of Art Rally set-up would have been fast-paced with something new and exciting always happening. 

ZELFPORTRET

In which I break one of my Museum Rules.

And I neglected to even write down what this was. Can't find it on the website.

Rule-breaker and Failure in 3 Pictures, The High Museum, Atlanta

VERMEER

Some die hard birders keep lists of all the birds they have seen in the wild. I think birds are special, but I don't actively pursue them with a fervor. Instead I seek out Vermeer paintings. There are 36 know paintings by Vermeer in existence. I've seen 15 of them. I still remember my first one. A collection of art from the Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Alte Meister (Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister), Dresden was on a world tour and it happened to have a stop in at the art museum in Jackson, Mississippi. My mom parked me in front of The Procuress and told me to look. (I'm pretty sure she physically arranged me in front of it. Not entirely unlike the way she would straighten my spine to correct a horrible teenage slouch.) I think she really wanted me to pay attention to his handling of texture. His ability to paint the carpets that often appear on tables in his work is incredible. I remember it being larger than most other paintings of his I have seen. The Procuress impressed me enough to make it into my journal entry about the day. (Back when I used to record every mundane thing about my life in writing. Another teenage habit.)

But I did learn that deformed antlers were highly prized for their rarity and possibly spiritual / divine beginnings. The art and sculpture collections were amazing. I saw a Vermeer oil, a Rembrandt, Roman sculpture, a Durer, and a Michelangelo drawing. 

Almost 10 years after day, the only thing I concretely remember is the Vermeer.  Soon after, I would encounter Vermeer again when I saw Girl With a Pearl Earring. I haven't seen it since but I remember liking it. I never read the book. I have a weird rule about reading fiction books about art and artists. I just don't. I never want to confuse novels with what I learned in my art history classes. I fear that those kind of books would just get accidentially filed away as "something I read about an artist once."

I didn't cross paths with another Vermeer painting until college. I did a semester abroad in London and was able to see quite a few more that way. There are Vermeers in the National Gallery and one at Kenwood House as part of the Iveagh Bequest. A long weekend in Paris led me to the The Lacemaker and The Astronomer owned by the Louvre.  Mort of all I wanted to see The Milkmaid.  I eventually got to see it when it came to the Met in New York in 2009. It took a car and a bus to get me there, but it was worth it to see that painting and the Met's Vermeers together. It was also my first trip to the Met. I remember what I wore, and my feet hurt a lot from the miles of galleries I walked through that day, and I cried a little in front of them. They were so small and beautiful, and the ultramarine blue was surprising to me, because that color never comes through correctly in the plates printed in art history books. I've seen the Vermeers in DC, and even the hole in the Dutch room of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. And after last weekend, I had seen The Girl with the Pearl Earring. 

She was beautiful, and about the size I expected her to be. I've learned from past experiences that most Vermeer paintings are not that large. That made it strange though to go from seeing her face blown up on a banner probably sharing the square footage of my bedroom flying off the side of The High. There was another pictures of her face wallpapering the entry wall to the temporary galleries. Every crack in her skin, every splotch of old varnish was visible. The pearl was the size of my head, and blown up didn't really read as a pearl anymore -- just a white blotch. In person the painting was perfect. Exhibition didactics described it as the Dutch Mona Lisa. I've seen the Mona Lisa, but this was a completely different experience. Both paintings are similar in size and were displayed behind a second, protective barrier of everything-proof plexi, however the strictly-enforced No Photography rule ensured a pleasant experience for all. (I'm a fan of the no-photography rule (I've gone on at length about it here.) And 99.9% abide by a personal absolutely no-photography rule. (I had a slip up at the High. You'll see it in a few days.)) When I saw the Mona Lisa, people were clambering to take a photograph. I observed from a far -- not wanting to elbow through people 7 deep just to see it. At the High, I had plenty of elbow room, and all the time I wanted to spend in front of it. (It may have also been to my advantage that I went on the second-to-last weekend it was up.) Vermeer's ultramarine was different in this painting. It had been mixed with some white -- not nearly as bright and striking as say, the skirt on The Milkmaid, but it played off the completely black background and her green top perfectly. Even though the background was a solid black, it didn't feel flat, and I sensed a depth to that color. 

Other notable works that came with the Vermeer from the Mauritius were Haarlem with Bleaching Grounds by Jacob van Ruisdael, The Goldfinch by Carel Fabritius, The Oyster Eater by Jan Steen, and a painting of Susanna bathing by Rembrandt.

Pictures from my drive. I've always liked driving on highways instead of the interstate. I took Saturday to drive some miles down 411 South into Georgia.

I am a woman of my word.  Chicken biscuit for the road.

NPR. So maybe turning into my parents wasn't such a big deal after all.

What a crap day.  Rain on 411 S.

Still raining. Only halfway there.

When you see something like this, you pull over.

That empty frame at the Gardner Museum hit me hard. Even though the theft had happened nearly 20 years before I got there, that frame makes it seem fresh every time. I knew there would be empty frames, but I wasn't prepared for the way that would make me feel. I was angry and sad that someone could be so selfish as to steal paintings. This 2010 article from the New York Times quotes the chairman of the Met’s department of European sculpture and decorative arts saying, “There’s just something horrific about seeing a broken artwork.” I think that is true to missing artwork as well.