Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts
The main thing of interest today was my visit to the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts. I had planned to visit Sergiev Posad, but took Alla's suggestion to stay closer to town and check out some art galleries. Yesterday I spent the better part of ten hours walking around and seeing a bunch of cool things. And at the end of the day my legs were a little sore, but I wasn't terribly exhausted. Yet after only about three hours walking around in an art museum I was spent. Every part of my body ached and I didn't want to walk anymore. Oh well, I guess this is the price one must pay to look at art.
Comparing Pushkin to the Hermitage, I would have to say that I much prefer Pushkin. The reason for this is that I spent more time in Pushkin, which is smaller. The Hermitage was so huge and I wanted to see everything, so walked through rather rapidly. I remember seeing their Rembrandt, a da Vinci, a this, and a that, but nothing really sticks in my mind other than, "Wow, this place has a lot of stuff." I took my time in Pushkin and tried to find one or two pieces in each room to look at for a couple minutes. It probably helped that several halls were closed and one entire section of the museum was being renovated.
There were several rooms with replicas of the great Roman and Greek masterworks. Taken as a whole the rooms were quite stunning with David standing here and Apollo there and so forth. However, I walked rather quickly through the sculpture only zones in favor of the paintings. I guess I'm more of a 2-d kind of guy. The exhibition currently showing was that of Svetlana Ivanova. Her genre is digital manipulation of photographs. Most of her work I couldn't readily get into, but there were several pieces that I wouldn't mind hanging on the wall of my future study. They looked almost like a kid had drawn the picture with a crayon. Only basic colors and shapes, but the original image was still very clear. I believe that she is also a poet, as there were poems posted around the room next to various pieces. I managed to stumble through one of them. Of all the days to forget my dictionary, I picked the right one! Most of the titles were in both English and Russian, but the descriptions were only in Russian. Not only did I not have my handy dandy dictionary with me, but no pencil or paper to write down words to look up when I returned. Oh well, I learned something irregardless.
When I was looking at another piece entitled "Rural Love" by some French-sounding artist, I kept getting distracted by the placement of the name card and an outlet directly below the painting. Not part of the art, but influencing my perception of it nonetheless. A bit like John Cage and his notions of music being not only what is meant to be heard, but what is actually heard. This happened to me again, more pronouncedly, when I was viewing Henri Matisse's "A Moroccan Triptyque." There was a loud fan blowing in the background in addition to the clamps holding the art up that added something quite different I'm sure than what Matisse had in mind when he created these pieces.
It was neat to be in a room filled with Monet's with a few Renoir's thrown in for good measure. Although they only had maybe 5 or so Van Gogh's that was also a pleasure. In one room where I believe there were predominantly Manet's hanging I noticed one particular work swaying in the breeze as it were. Without too much investigation I realized that the small fan used to keep the attendant comfortable was blowing on it at such an angle to cause it to move back and forth against the wall. Not fully thinking out how I would convey this to the attendant, I motioned for her to come over to me. Then just pointed and grunted at the picture and the fan. She said she didn't speak any English. I said that I only spoke a little bit of Russian to which she erupted in a torrent of verbage. After a few more hand gestures and grunts on my part, she understood what I was trying to convey. Promptly she enquired if I was an artist. I understood that and responded, no, but that I was a musician. Again she chortled away for a bit before asking if I was German. Nope, sad to say I'm but a lowly American. That was no problem for her and she smiled, thanking me once again for my keen eye. As I left that room she called a fellow attendant over to investigate the swaying artwork. On my way out of the museum 20 minutes later, I thought that I should be reimbursed the cost of my ticket. Here I may have possibly averted a disaster to a piece of art certainly worth more than my 240 ruble admission ticket. Alas, this is Russia and I am but a measly student without my student ID card for discounted admission. And so it goes.
Comparing Pushkin to the Hermitage, I would have to say that I much prefer Pushkin. The reason for this is that I spent more time in Pushkin, which is smaller. The Hermitage was so huge and I wanted to see everything, so walked through rather rapidly. I remember seeing their Rembrandt, a da Vinci, a this, and a that, but nothing really sticks in my mind other than, "Wow, this place has a lot of stuff." I took my time in Pushkin and tried to find one or two pieces in each room to look at for a couple minutes. It probably helped that several halls were closed and one entire section of the museum was being renovated.
There were several rooms with replicas of the great Roman and Greek masterworks. Taken as a whole the rooms were quite stunning with David standing here and Apollo there and so forth. However, I walked rather quickly through the sculpture only zones in favor of the paintings. I guess I'm more of a 2-d kind of guy. The exhibition currently showing was that of Svetlana Ivanova. Her genre is digital manipulation of photographs. Most of her work I couldn't readily get into, but there were several pieces that I wouldn't mind hanging on the wall of my future study. They looked almost like a kid had drawn the picture with a crayon. Only basic colors and shapes, but the original image was still very clear. I believe that she is also a poet, as there were poems posted around the room next to various pieces. I managed to stumble through one of them. Of all the days to forget my dictionary, I picked the right one! Most of the titles were in both English and Russian, but the descriptions were only in Russian. Not only did I not have my handy dandy dictionary with me, but no pencil or paper to write down words to look up when I returned. Oh well, I learned something irregardless.
When I was looking at another piece entitled "Rural Love" by some French-sounding artist, I kept getting distracted by the placement of the name card and an outlet directly below the painting. Not part of the art, but influencing my perception of it nonetheless. A bit like John Cage and his notions of music being not only what is meant to be heard, but what is actually heard. This happened to me again, more pronouncedly, when I was viewing Henri Matisse's "A Moroccan Triptyque." There was a loud fan blowing in the background in addition to the clamps holding the art up that added something quite different I'm sure than what Matisse had in mind when he created these pieces.
It was neat to be in a room filled with Monet's with a few Renoir's thrown in for good measure. Although they only had maybe 5 or so Van Gogh's that was also a pleasure. In one room where I believe there were predominantly Manet's hanging I noticed one particular work swaying in the breeze as it were. Without too much investigation I realized that the small fan used to keep the attendant comfortable was blowing on it at such an angle to cause it to move back and forth against the wall. Not fully thinking out how I would convey this to the attendant, I motioned for her to come over to me. Then just pointed and grunted at the picture and the fan. She said she didn't speak any English. I said that I only spoke a little bit of Russian to which she erupted in a torrent of verbage. After a few more hand gestures and grunts on my part, she understood what I was trying to convey. Promptly she enquired if I was an artist. I understood that and responded, no, but that I was a musician. Again she chortled away for a bit before asking if I was German. Nope, sad to say I'm but a lowly American. That was no problem for her and she smiled, thanking me once again for my keen eye. As I left that room she called a fellow attendant over to investigate the swaying artwork. On my way out of the museum 20 minutes later, I thought that I should be reimbursed the cost of my ticket. Here I may have possibly averted a disaster to a piece of art certainly worth more than my 240 ruble admission ticket. Alas, this is Russia and I am but a measly student without my student ID card for discounted admission. And so it goes.
posted by Troy on 20:11
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