I’m much more affected by abstract art, both painting and sculpture, than I realized.
I’ve been enthralled by the paintings of Renee Magritte for a long time, but I’d never seen one in person until this afternoon. In the prints, the paintings look photorealistic. In real life, seen up close, there are slightly misplaced brush strokes, tiny flaws here and there.
Detail of Delusions of Grandeur II
It doesn’t detract from the works at all, but it does inspire in me a type of hope. Once again, my theme recurs; these giants who’ve lived so long in my mind are emphatically human. And more magnificent therefore.
Sculpture can be funny.
Sculpture can be incredibly moving. There’s a rabbit huddled in a corner of an exhibit in the Renwick gallery, a sculpture called i am no one by Beth Cavener Stichter.
i am no one
The more I looked at it, the more I wanted to burst into tears, to comfort it, to let it escape somehow.
The Postal Museum sounds like it would be boring, and it really, really is.
There is a tree of wishes in the Hirschhorn sculpture garden. It’s an ongoing installation, a way of collecting wishes, and sending them to Yoko Ono, of all people. It’s for people who’ve grown out of Santa Clause, I suppose. My wish? I wish we could actually know what it’s like to be someone else for a while.
Oh, and the White House is tiny.