Cloud Study

for this blog post you should understand a few things about me. (1) i enjoy reading. (2) when i read i also get distracted because i'm so inspired by what i've read i have to get up and do something about it. (3) i appreciate art and in no way intend to be its greatest critic.




yesterday a friend and i had the pleasure of attending the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, NY. i hadn't visited the MET since last March, so you can imagine my art gauge was running on low...practically deteriorating.

YAY FOR LIVING NEAR ONE OF THE MAJOR CITIES OF THE WORLD!

anyway, upon entering the MET, i avoided the Egyptian exhibit because i've seen it ever since i was three: i've lived these twenty two, almost twenty three years in or near NYC and i've only seen about an eighth of the MET? so, onto newer parts! (newer for me, at least.)

we walked up their grand staircase and into the European Paintings (1250-1800), but my friend's greater interest in the more recently painted paintings led us to quickly move onto 19th-and-Early 20th-Century European Paintings and Sculpture, but a quick walk down the hallway.

Here I began my search of Johan Christian Dahl's "The Eruption of Mount Vesuvius" my favorite painting. (i would say 'my favorite piece of art in general', but i might speak too soon.) i despaired when it appeared in none of the rooms i was already in, when i turned and, "AH! I'll be right back. I've been looking for this!"

i found it:

and i'd wanted to just stare at it all day, but another girl in a blue dress was already standing there. it was apparent she wasn't going to leave. i made myself to stand beside her, in spite of my great desire to have a center view.

having filled my Vesuvius fix i walked on and discovered one of his cloud studies. oh! i didn't know this existed.

 

as soon as i saw that, i found another cloud study, and another, and another. i was thrilled!

in fact, when you have the time, you should visit the MET's website and type in the search bar 'cloud study'.

you may ask, "what's to study? they're just clouds."

"no," i'd respond. "it's more than just clouds. it's color, light and dark, shape (sometimes sharp, sometimes fluffed), and depth. perhaps more!- i'm not the artist! perhaps they study more than i can say; than i can tell you."

although, i will admit, i am slightly biased for the sky has always fascinated me: how solid it looks, but i know that the moment i choose to press my weight onto it, i'll only fall through, and down onto the hard earth. even with the scientific understanding we have of the sky and what's beyond me (i, personally, lack this scientific understanding) still leaves one awestruck.

i can only imagine... these are just the studies of clouds, what must have the artist really seen when he saw those clouds. perhaps even artists would admit that no picture (painted, taken, sculpted, etc.) could really ever capture nature.

nature is best experienced, not imitated...but that should never stop you from doing your best to imitate it.

unfortunately, i don't believe i'll ever get my art gauge filled to its brim; and it may never stay filled, but what's the fun in that? if its filled, i'd never have a chance to appreciate the tons and tons of art still left to be appreciated, and made.

so, i'll begin my own cloud study.

no, i won't paint them. i may not attempt to photograph them. but i will press them onto my mind, so much so, that if and when i may require a lobotomy they'll see the clouds etched in there.

that, and now i need to buy this book:

 

pictures courtesy of MetMuseum.org and ChronicleBooks.com

Glorified Tourists

I don't know much about where I live. At least, not all the little details. 

Me: Oh, and these are Brownstones!

Friend: Oh, what are they made out of?

Me: ...brown stones? Haha, I'm sure they're not all brown-colored. You can paint over stones.

But the little I do know seemed to suffice for our adventure last Saturday. That and our smartphones are embedded with GPS systems [:

Walking around the city, any city, you will always overhear conversations, and encounter strangers, find new holes-in-the-wall (or another Starbucks) especially when you're willing to get lost. There's nothing more enjoyable than walking about aimlessly, your only goal to enjoy the company you're with. What else do you need?

"Food."

Oh, well, that's a given! Good food always comes with good friends!

Now, if you find it necessary you'll have to forgive me for this next bit: I always forget that every adult used to be a child. 

How did I come to this thought?

Walking around the city, any city, you will always overhear conversations, and encounter strangers, find new holes-in-the-wall (or another Starbucks), and if you're not careful you'll forget that these conversations, strangers and holes-in-the-wall are someone else's familiar scene.  

It was really the strangers that struck me. They all were, at one point or another, an adorable baby learning to walk, to talk, to feed himself. I never forget that every child will become an adult. I forget that every adult used to be a child.

What's stopped our childlikeness?

Have we forgotten what it is to fly?

Have these city walls worn us down so that their previous glamour is now moldy and damp?

But the strangers I encountered: the homeless, the immigrants, emigrants; the tourists (not very much unlike me), the artists, the students, the runners; the commuters (everyone) they all wore expressions that I couldn't label for you. They stood there, alone or with a couple others, mostly with headphones on, stuck in their individual worlds; going about their day.

Were they as methodical as children?

Sometimes, I think everyone needs to be a tourist in their own hometown just so they can encounter some of the local mysticism, historicity: so that everyone can remember what it was like and, hopefully, be more grateful, for the privileges they now have. 

Yes, we all want to be remembered, but do we remember anyone?

I wish I knew more about Harlem's Brownstones. Well, then, I'll study up on them! That way the next time you follow me around I won't be a glorified tourist

glorified tourist definition :: one who resides in, but knows little to nothing about, tourist hot spots

(the term 'glorified' may also describe babysitters, cooks, etc.; any person who is familiar with, but not an expert in, said profession or   category)

I'll be your legitimate tour guide.

I imagine that if I know more about the area, more about its history and mysticism, I'll be more apt to remember its residents: rich and poor. These are my neighbors, after all. Don't I want to know my neighbors?

I could wander anywhere if you let me, and if you didn't mind my disappearing for a few hours because I promise you I will disappear if you don't wander with me. I may or may not find my way back to you, but whether I find you or don't I hope it won't bother you if I don't find you.