Museum of Fine Art
It may be an art museum, but it’s actually a history museum. There are paintings and sculptures from Africa, Asia, Europe, and the Americas – some over 500 years old. It is impossible to get through it all in only two hours. With its high ceilings, fancy wallpaper and mirrors, and incredibly diverse collection, the museum is a work of art itself.
The week I went there was a special exhibit on the Inuit. There were a couple knives and a harpoon tip made from a walrus tusk. There was a bone sculpture made by Fred Nayokpuk (1962-present) from the Inupiaq region. There was a black-and-white drawing of a walrus with human arms holding a bow and arrow made by Tivi Paningina (1917-1991) from the Ivujivik region. There was a colored drawing of a six-headed bird-bear-human-narwhal monster made by Daniel Inukpuk (1942-present) from the Inukjuak region. |
At first I was disappointed that they did not have Inuit art untouched by European influence. It calls into question whether it is in fact Inuit art and whether the artists are in fact Inuits or just Americans and Canadians of Inuit ancestry. Then I realized that everyone borrowed from everyone else as proven by the Victorian British vase made to look Islamic in style. It’s very fancy. Old styles from all over the world are emulated by modern artists who merge them together to create new combinations. |
I was very surprised by how long I looked at the realist paintings. Generally, I believe that if one is going to put in the time and effort to create something, they should at least make something creative – something that doesn’t already exist. I’m a science fiction author, after all. I used to find realism mundane and boring. However, every once in a while I’ll see a picture that suggests a story, awakens my nostalgia, or touches on a common thread of humanity. It also helps me when I have an appreciation of the amount of work that went into a piece or its cultural/historical context. |
According to the placards, art that reinforced Catholic teachings was preferred in nineteenth-century France. The realists rejected this in favor of painting the observable world. Gustave Courbet is recorded as once saying, “I will paint an angel when I see one.” Francois Bonvin (1817-1887) painted Reading The News. Leon Bonnat (1833-1922) painted Precious Moments. Jean-Francois Raffaelli (1850-1924) painted L’Homme Aux Deux Pain in 1879, which is thought to have been inspired by Les Miserables, which came out in 1862. He used a mixed oil-pastel technique. Claude Monet differed from the other realists by not painting directly from the subject. One of his paintings is called Houses Of Parliament: The Effect Of Fog, London. |
Also according to the placards, women were not allowed to paint outdoor scenes in nineteenth-century France. Their place was the home. Berthe Morisot (1841-1895) was an excellent painter of realism around the house. It is said that her style was characteristically feminine because it seems that art critics at the time believed there were feminine and masculine painting styles, leading to a confirmation bias wherein they saw what they expected to see. I have heard of a similar phenomenon among music critics. Her life slightly overlapped that of American artist Georgia O’Keefe (1887-1986) who also had it suggested that her paintings of flowers were typical of women’s art. That must have been annoying. |
I have too many favorites. I saw amazing glass work by Richard Ritter and Frederick Carder. I saw a rough-surfaced abstract by Enrico Donati (1909-2008), who is reported to have used coffee grounds, sand, and vacuum debris in his work. I saw masks and figures from Nigeria, Liberia, and Sierra Leone. I saw a stone figure of god-of-death Michtlantecuhtli (I love that name!!) from Mexico dated sometime between 1100 and 1500. It had slits to allow incense smoke to rise out of it. There was even a gold bird from Costa Rica. Since many of the artifacts from that area were used to make noise, it is hypothesized that the eyes were originally tiny bells whose clappers have fallen out. I also liked the Jain shrine with its intricate woodwork and tiny figures behind the windows. In the seventeenth century the central doors would have opened to reveal one of the twenty-four holy men in Jainism, but they must have been busy when I went.
Written by Daniel Noe