This blog post exists for the sheer fact that I felt compelled to share the knowledge that jackasses like art too.
My friend Brian and I decided to hit up the MFA one fine Sunday afternoon. Sadly, the rest of the effing world seemed to have had the same idea, but that is beside the point. Seriously, don’t these people know there’s a Butterfly Pavillion at the Science Museum now, for God’s sake!
The lines were long (and easily cuttable), the guides were busy answering old ladies questions, and I was busy sticking my pinky AND my nose as high as I could and entering the crowd, hell bent on fitting in with the cultured masses.
Cause we’re so cultured it’s coming out of our…____!
Yes, I am – in fact – a self censoring poet.
Voltaire would be pissed.
Wait, when did I say asses, you ask?
Never you mind.
This is Brian and I enjoying the Masters. A grand expanse of skill and timeless works. Look how thoroughly thoughtful we are and how seriously we were taking these works of art. The skill, the timeless sophistication of the work. Truly magical.
At thankfully, at eye height!
I’m sorry, but no one can tell me a tuckus like that isn’t a work of art. Magical!
Whilst perusing the Masters, I was reminded of my lifelong goal to one day own a Monet. There’s a specific one I want, but I’ll take anything really – I mean, who wouldn’t? I got a lot of wall space here in my mansion, ladies and gentlemen.
Now, don’t let our appreciation of Rodin and Renoir fool you. We are classless.
Shortly after heading out of this here room we found the Buddha and Asian art of old. The ancient sandalwood carvings and resin casts that took hundreds of years to complete, the serenity of a coy pond and sand garden all wrapped into paper walled rooms of calmly enlightened statues – this should have been a time for reflection and quiet contemplation, right?
Buddha knows how to fucking party!
Seriously, how could you pass up an opportunity like this? I ask you.
After Buddha’s kegger, my feet were beginning to scream at me (poor choice of footwear on my part) and was beginning to whine to Brian incessantly. Being the patient fellow he is, we were ready to head out when suddenly…
Further classlessness erupted!
This beautiful statue of a Hindu god drew my eye. His eternal struggle was reminiscent of a struggle we all battle at every barbecue and family shindig.
Yet, he wasn’t the main event of our classless escapades. The statue just behind him was. As Brian was shooing a shot of this handsome devil, I became fixated on the second statue – a figure of some other Hindu god with his consort in a passionate embrace. Her legs wrapped up and around him as he held her in his arms.
I found it intriguing and hypnotic. Made me wish I already knew my future husband.
Then I noticed the placard of information on the statue.
This is why you kids should remember the true glory of reading.
Yes, that’s right, this fucker (pardon the term and potentially pun, which I assure you, was not – but should have been – intended) is anatomically correct.
Not only is he anatomically correct, his lady friend is too. By the grace of some art god, this statue is actually two separate statues, locked together in an anatomically correct embrace. Amazing, you say? I know.
So amazing, that Brian and I attempted to get a shot of their correctness with our phones and Nikon D90. Brian succeeded, with the help of my camera’s light.
Did we look ridiculous?
Was it worth it?
Keeping it Classy, ladies and gentlemen.
Now, the MFA would be hard pressed to top that wonder, but still we meandered in the echo of my whining foot discomfort.
This is Brian and I walking down a VERY sophisticated hallway. Somewhere along this route, we found the “Photography” room. I had often thought the MFA chose to forego the Photography aspect of fine art, due to its ‘newness,’ but I was mistaken.
Sadly, I wish I hadn’t been mistaken. I literally hated almost every photograph in their exhibit. Why you ask? Well, because most. if not all, looked like a blindfolded Monkey took it. I’m not interested in this blurry shot of a fence post just because it was taken on actual film. That doesn’t make a picture good. If that IS what makes a photograph ART, then by all means, I’ll pull my film camera out of hock and start shooting pictures of plumber’s cracks and sliced Spam.
Oh the Gugenheim will be calling for sure!
Or at least, they better. If I’m going to be pretentious without reward, then that would just make me…well, pretentious. I’m kinda not Ok with that.
Now, I suppose in the throes of this nonsense I should actually add an artsy fartsy shot. I mean, I do tend to take a few here and there. Still, I find jackassery far more interesting on this blog. The Art shots tend to migrate to Vision Junkie, with some spillage here. For those who enjoy the spillage, it is below.
And it is numerous!
We begin with paint strokes and lithographery!
Some of the pictureque landscape created by Chiluhy.
The palatial expanse of the interior of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. This is what my living room looks like – well, in my French Palace, anyway.Who wouldn’t acquire a mild God complex in such a place.
Don’t even blink. Blink and you’re dead….And I leave you with the piece de resistance. We revisit –