I recently went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and saw an installation by William Kentridge called The Refusal of Time.
I don’t know about you, but when I go to museums, which are like candy shops for me, I give myself an ‘out’, which goes like this, “Go ahead and wander around until something ‘sticks’.” This version of ‘candy’ takes up mental space, I figure I should not apply my full attention to anything in particular until my internal bells and whistles begin firing. I really do not want to give my energy away before I have had my moment.
So I wandered around, predominantly on the second floor, where I stumbled on a show called Jewels by Jar. I like sparkly things, not a lot, but I do, I meandered through the gallery, which was very dark, I looked at the amazing jewel encrusted sculptures, they were really neat, Jar has major talent and imagination. But what I really liked, was seeing the New York dames, elder women, neatly dressed, holding the print-out closely and trying to figure out what metals, jewels and fibers were used in each piece. I have always loved elder people and I fall in love easily.
I fell in love that day.
Then I stumbled into a furniture exhibit, centered around the dressing table. This was a low key gallery as far as I was concerned. It held my interest long enough to take a fun selfie.
But soon after this, I entered into the installation by William Kentridge ( the top most phot in this post). I really like the art this man makes. Every piece I have come across satisfies me, touches me deeply and this installation did not disappoint. Surrounded by projections on all three walls, sitting on a chair affixed to the floor along side an active bellows of some sort of machination, while listening to some really ingenious music, I became immersed in this 35 minute experience.
It brought tears to my eyes, I was amazed. I love that. I love when good art makes me cry. When good art makes me think and pulls me away from what I think is true and relevant and fills me with wonder and anticipation.
I want to see it again.
And whenever I go to the Met, I always seek out the gallery just outside the Antonio Ratti Textile Center which had an exhibition of William Morris fabrics and wallpaper. This is just food for the soul. This textile lover, up and coming textile designer, loves William Morris. Being able to lean in and really look at printed cloth and wallpaper? Being able to see the ‘thuck’ of the block printed paper (the texture that the ink leaves), oh my goodness. That was a treat beyond measure.
I left the museum with a lightness, an airiness that had not been there previously.
What museum, show or gallery have you been to that has rocked your socks? Tell me in the comment, please.