Roaming the AKG Art Museum
Wandering aimlessly among the old masters
A few days ago — Thursday, this was — I took an hour and a half and I aimlessly wandered the Buffalo AKG Art Museum.
It is funny being a Buffalonian because you grow up with this place. We know Any Warhol and his soup cans. Clyfford Still and his big blotchy canvases. The Mirror Room.
Thursday I did not see the Mirror Room. I forgot to look for it. I just went here and there, la la la la la la la.
I spent a long time with the Old Masters, admiring pictures such as this by Camille Pissarro.
My mother liked Camille Pissarro and would point out ways in which he was superior to Monet.
“The talent ….” she said once. She added that it was just there, in the case of Pissarro, in a way it was not with Monet.
Here is a beautiful painting by Pissarro that is in the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto.
Now that is what I call a painting!
When my mom and I were in Paris we went looking for Pissarro’s grave. It took us hours to find it. It was about 90 degrees and there we were, walking and walking, determined to find this artist’s grave.
I thought back on all this as I wandered the gallery.
I visited the sculpture court. When I was a very little girl my father took a picture of me standing there in my little coat looking up at this lady. I will have to find that picture.
I loved revisiting our famous Tissot. Some years ago, Toronto did a big Tissot exhibit and they borrowed this magnificent Tissot to anchor it. This painting used to be on the staircase at our art gallery. It used to occupy a real place of honor.
It is a treat to go to the art gallery by yourself, if you have not, and go at your own pace, thinking your own thoughts. Going where you want to go.
The part of the gallery devoted to traditional art — the, ahem, Old Masters — was pretty quiet. I had whole rooms to myself. When I crossed into the modern wing, things grew hectic. Kids were screaming and tour guides were addressing groups.
No matter. It was fun to roam this corridor.
It was fun just to roam, period.
I am lucky, you know, to have just an easy walk to this great gallery. Just to be able to wander it aimlessly. Oh, yes, this is a Gainsborough.
A Sargent! To stand in front of a painting by John Singer Sargent.
Walking home, I kept thinking of things I had seen. My head was full! And it was funny, I passed a park worker raking leaves on the Delaware Park Ring Road. It was as if I felt a sprinkling of fairy dust and the worker turned into that Pissarro painting.
I blinked and looked again. The man turned back into a park worker.
Then he became again part of an Impressionist painting.
Just another day in Buffalo, you know?
An inspiring day!
I was there Thursday as well! I brought my sister, who had just suffered the death of her husband of 36 years, thinking a trip to the AKG with lunch might be just the outing for her. (She hadn't been there since a 3rd-grade field trip!!) Our lunch at Cornelia's was phenomenal, as we shared an enormous beet and grain salad and a hearty West African stew. (I had to take half of my shared allotment home, it was so much!) Then, on we wandered. She remembered some of the old masters and smiled big smiles when she recognized an artist. It wasn't very crowded and we wandered for 3 hours! She really loved the walk through the glass corridor over to the Gundlach building. There was a particular "attendee enhancement coordinator" who was happy to give us the "back story" on several of the contemporary installments on the 3rd floor of the Gundlach building. This is a new service provided to us, as before the redesign, the staff you saw in each gallery were there primarily there for security and to point people to the restrooms. Thank you, AKG and staff members, for providing such a cultural oasis in this City of Good Neighbors.
I went to the AKG by myself about a month ago. I wandered into the modern part where there is this awful video thing-- a pair of eyes that emits this intermittent groaning sound. So annoying! You can't focus on the other works around it because of the noise pollution. I mentioned it to the guard, who rolled her eyes and emitted her own groaning sound-- " I hate being placed in this room," she said. I have to listen to it all day!