Years ago, when I was in my forties, I had a friend named Jackie who was older than me. I liked being around her because she had a wonderful sense of humor. Jackie was also adventuresome. After her husband died, she sold her house and removed herself to Paris France where she hooked up with some of her cousins who lived on one of the boulevards installed by Baron Von Haussmann in the nineteenth century.
Jackie returned months later bearing photographs she had taken during her visit, among them a few snapped from an attic window in a Mansard roof showing the Paris skyline or the broad boulevard below her cousin’s hotel. They were reminiscent of paintings by various nineteenth century artists, who no doubt lived in places similar to Rudolpo’s apartment in La Bohème.*
I thought about Jackie yesterday when David and I visited the National Gallery of Art, here in Washington D.C. I say “here” because although technically and tax-wise we live in Arlington VA, anyone who knows Arlington knows it is part of the original District of Columbia streetwise and culturally. Thus our home is a mere 5 minutes to the National Gallery of Art.
Although we both worked downtown for eons, neither of us drive into the District very often anymore, so we took a taxis downtown and back, as is our custom in retirement.
Kathy, my neighbor and artist friend, has been nagging me for weeks take the time to see the Wyeth exhibit, so on entering the NGA, we made our way to the north wing of the West building (or main building as newcomers to DC call it), and saw this twentieth century curated collection of paintings and drawings. Visitors were everywhere with all sorts of cameras, but a little sign at the entrance to the exhibit read ‘no photos’ so I have none to show you (however check out the link below). A guard yelled at one woman who was attempting to photograph a picture, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. http://www.nga.gov/content/ngaweb/exhibitions/2014/andrew-wyeth.html
David and I spend an hour or two at the most when visiting this type of venue, so very shortly we made our way to the bistro on the main floor where we had the buffet lunch.
“This is my idea of a visit to a museum,” Jackie would say when we sat in a museum café.