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By now you've noticed I took a lot of photos inside the museum. I didn't know that was acceptable either. I had my camera put away, then saw a few people taking photos. I pulled my camera out and took a few really quickly and put my camera away. Then I noticed that the guards right next to the art could care less about people with very large cameras sizing up their shot and taking photos. The only guideline i could find was "no flash".
Okay, camera ready? IT'S ON!
Ah yes, the orgy painting. I like it because those two on the far right look like they are about to dish some serious trash talking about someone else's outfit.
I'm pretty certain this is how Lyle thinks I should greet him when he comes home from work. And I am equally certain that's not going to happen.
For some reason I was in a winter mood.
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Before leaving, I purchased a book on the Musee d'Orsay. I learned some fascinating things that apparently I had missed in school. The artists in France made their living off their patrons, generally the king. When the king was gone, the state stepped in and became the supporter and arbitrator of what was art. There were annual exhibitions and if your painting(s) was no accepted they put a big R on the back, for REFUSED. And then who would buy your painting if everyone else agreed it wasn't good enough to even be seen in the annual approved show?
Even if you were accepted, if you weren't in tight (or paid someone off) your painting would most likely be hung high towards the ceiling or in an out of the way room guaranteeing you no customers or contacts.
When a new school of painting and arts came along they were "refused" repeatedly and finally gave up and had their own showing of the Show of the Refused. Thought tough going at first, this is where Manet, Pissarro, Cezanne and more, finally got their break.
I also looked at the summer paintings.
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And also from my handy book I learned of the birth of Impressionism. The story goes that while writing and editing the catalog Renoir's brother got fed up with the titles to Monet's paintings, Entrance to the Village, Way out of the Village, Morning in the Village... And he asked Monet to change some of the titles. Monet took a look at the painting of a view of the harbor and responded, "Why don't you just call it 'Impression'?" And that name stuck.
Lyle was offended that she had her feet up on that nice couch.
I took this one for my friend Teryl, who played the bassoon in high school.
I took this one for Richard who has most likely done some floors in his past.
Christine and I love dogs.
I took this one for Carolyn who told me she loves this painting at the Art Institute of Chicago. And oh yeah, I saw the big painting there in February.
So now I've learned that you area painter in France and you are broke and hungry. And you sit in your studio and you think, "I MUST GET IN THAT SHOW. I MUST SELL A PAINTING!" And then you wonder, what do people really like... and it comes to you...TURKEYS! Turkeys? Seriously? You thought someone would want an 8' square painting of turkeys?
We left the museum and took a walk outside. It was an amazingly bright and cheerful day. Spring had arrived and the city was out to greet it. We crossed over the river and walked for a bit through the Tuilleries. And I say this guy:
3 comments:
certainment, NON! vous etes GAY!
Merci Monsieur!
J'adore Caillebotte!
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