One thing I have noticed, we never worry in a museum. We stop, think and wonder. Negative feelings fall away. Art is good for the mind. Wherever we choose to linger--landscapes, medieval iconography, portraits, abstracts--brings its own reverie. I wanted to spend more time looking at this marvelous self-portrait by Gabriele Munter.
Isn't it arresting? She sits at easel holding her paints in her right hand, yet hardly dressed for painting in her cream-colored garment, delicately balanced hat, and pendant necklace. What was she really wearing while she painted herself I wondered. Munter was an influential German expressionist painter, born in 1877 and died in 1962. But like other women artists, she was for a time overlooked.
The museum has three of her paintings on view. In this one her lover and fellow artist Wassily Kandinsky is at table with Erma Bossi, another artist. Not as handsome as the self-portrait, but with good dark outlines and a flatness that makes for a strong composition.
In this painting the colors are even bolder. Of course I looked Gabriele Munter up when I got home. Her life is very interesting. There are beautiful slide shows of her work on YouTube, a few accompanied by music such as a Bach-double violin concerto. I wish I could reproduce it here.
On the same visit I spent some time studying another interesting portrait of a woman. American artist Robert Henri made this painting of Mildred Clarke von Kienbusch in 1914.
The background and the clothing (except for the ruffle) are very dark, so different from the pale colors of Munger's self-portrait. But the eyes and the lips are bright. And of course the splash of color in the flowers she is holding. Do you wonder if Henri sees his model as luminous but Munger, who paints her own face partially shadowed, does not see herself that way? That wouldn't be surprising. We might expect Munger to see herself more as an artist than as a striking woman.
I was also drawn to this painting called Boy Reading (1955).
Often on any one visit to a museum we try to see too much. Then nothing sinks in. This time the works I looked at slowly seemed to offer so much more. In what other ways might slow looking work well for us? In the outdoors certainly. On a walk. In a conversation. Maybe even just thinking, slowing down our thoughts.
I hope to enjoy the luxury of slow looking at a wonderful museum again sometime soon.
Excellent motto for life in general, thank you wise woman.
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