Bruce and I go to the Met and do not see the "About Time" exhibit
First, Bruce and I trudged across the park dodging little kids on sleds. I was glad I wore my hiking boots. The overland journey was mostly ice and required a real rugged approach to footwear. Nonetheless, I wore a dress and fur collar. Because I felt like it.
Sadly, at the Met, all the timed tickets to "About Time" were sold out. That's what I get for 100% not bothering to plan ahead. In retrospect, it probably was a little optimistic to assume we'd get in. The show closes tomorrow. Luckily, there's the whole rest of the Met.
Bruce and I both agreed the Clyfford Still called "1950-W" was the stand out of our afternoon. We stared at it for awhile and played a version of Ten Thousand Dollar Pyramid. Bruce muttered 10-20 words that began with the letter P until I shouted "Patina" and we both agreed it was a good word to describe the painting:
I was very pleased with my keen eye after noticing that, in all the Clyfford Still paintings, even the ones that look like the hides of slaughtered piebald cows, there's always a very bold contrasting color tucked off to one side. I know, you have to get up pretty early in the morning to get one past my eagle eye.
We also admired the big Louise Nevelson called "Mrs. N's Palace." It's made entirely of found objects in NYC. You can find a lot of shit on the sidewalk in NYC. Bruce said he ran across an amazing table with a marble top the other day. He thought about taking it home. But Nardo is on a minimalist kick right now. He's going around talking a lot about possibly throwing things out.
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| Photo Credit |
On the way back from the Abstract Art exhibit, we meandered through the permanent collection and ran across this beauty:
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| Gustav Klimt paints Serena Pulitzer Lederer |
Lemme tell ya, the above online image is a faint representation of the real deal. This painting is luminous and ephemeral and your eyes dance when they behold it. I can easily see why Klimt was sought after as a portrait artist. Bruce said he died of the Spanish flu in 1918... which seems extra poignant right about now.
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