I had to take the boys to Utrecht on Friday for medical appointments, and in between, we were able to peruse the outskirts of this charming 17th century town. There was a beautiful field of wildflowers, perhaps planted to revive threatened pollinator populations which is an ongoing practice in various parts of Europe. I was inspired by the tiny and unusual bees, and caught a nice photo of one alighting on a chicory bloom. I’ve always loved Chicory: it’s the most gorgeous shade of blue, and it used to grow wild in cracked sidewalks in the Chicago suburbs. When I was a kid, I’d try to pick it to place it in water, but it’s the kind of flower that doesn’t last off its plant.
Now that Amsterdam is once again open following the relaxation of Covid restrictions, I’ve been able to go back to museums. I first visited the Stedelijk last week. I was very excited since it’s a large contemporary and modern art museum which is generally the art I prefer, but it was a disappointment. The Suriname School exhibit seemed a bit… trying too hard for something? Its heart seemed to be in the right place but the fruition came off as unfortunately…. post-colonial... There were some excellent works but it was overall mixed, and the curation and display were hard to follow. After walking the Suriname School, I saw the Bruce Nauman exhibit, and I’ve never particularly liked his work, but it was interesting and I enjoyed some of it; however, I didn’t come away with a new appreciation for his art. Usually, when I’ve been to a good museum, I come away feeling inspired, but here I just felt let down.
This was not the case this morning when I went to the Van Gogh museum. Now that I live here, I finally know how to pronounce his name correctly, which is something like spitting out a hairball. That aside, I was incredibly inspired by this museum. There’s nothing like seeing great works of art in person. A painted surface cannot be replicated in photos or prints; it is impossible to match. It’s interesting, because of course, paintings are two-dimensional representations, but in fact, they are also three-dimensional objects, and light bounces off the painted surfaces in unique ways. Van Gogh, who was a master of thick and dramatic paint strokes (and perhaps invented the very concept of noteworthy brushwork) offers incredible life in his paintings. One can truly sense the painter behind the work: his hand is so well defined by his style. It’s hard to choose a favorite of his works, it is all so interesting and beautiful. I was utterly moved by the work he did at the end of his life in an asylum: many of his greatest achievements were done there. And there’s also his unsung sister-in-law: the woman responsible for making him known and getting his work out to the world. She was something like the Lee Krasner to his Jackson Pollock. Van Gogh was brilliant and tragic and it comes through in everything he did.