Showing posts with label museums. Show all posts
Showing posts with label museums. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

day at the museum



Back in Rabat, the beautiful Musée Mohammed VI Art Moderne & Contemporain is holding an exhibition of work by Spanish artists from the time of Goya until the present day. Here are some of my favourites, followed by Baby's:



We are grateful that the museum is so child-friendly— our nerves about taking an infant to see the work finally settled when the smiles kept coming from the gallery guards. Baby loved the bright colours and contrast of some pieces, and we hope that more experiences like this will build a future appreciation for art!



Francisco de Goya. Miguel Fernandez Durán, marquis de Tolosa. 1787. Oil on canvas. 
Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida. José Echegaray. 1905. Oil on canvas. 
Ignacio Zuloaga. Alejandro Fernández de Araoz. 1936. Charcoal and chalk on canvas. 
Rafael Canogar. Untitled. 1973. Silkscreen on paper. 
Rafael Canogar. Estudio para un monumento. 1972. Lithograph on paper. 
Equipo Crónica. El constructor. 1971. Silkscreen on paper.
Equipo Crónica. Guernica. 1971. Silkscreen on paper.
Equipo Crónica. La pincelada con Felipe. 1971. Silkscreen on paper.
Equipo Crónica. Interior de Las meninas. 1971-1972. Silkscreen on paper.
Equipo Crónica. Composición. 1971. Silkscreen on paper.
Ferrán García Sevilla. Poligon 32. 1988. Acrylic on canvas.
Ignasi Aballí. Serie Biografias. 2001. Oil, acrylic, tempera, and vinyl on canvas.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

caravaggio



The syllables of his name are enough to dot my skin with goosebumps, but to see the traces of his hand in the lines of Goliath's brow— the sickly lips of Bacchus, the rosiness of so many fingertips— I was removed from my place in this world, brought to the darkest of shadows, and transversely, to the brightest of lights.



Earth and stone ground to dust, suspended in oil and pulled across a stretched cloth by bristles— that coloured dust forming the pale ridge of an eyelid, the half-moon of a cuticle.



Faces and their anguish so familiar, they feel like my own.

Caravaggio. David with the Head of Goliath. 1609–1610. Oil on canvas. Galleria Borghese, Rome.
Caravaggio. Madonna with the Serpent. 1606. Oil on canvas. Galleria Borghese, Rome.
Caravaggio. Sick Bacchus. 1593. Oil on canvas. Galleria Borghese, Rome.
Caravaggio. The Inspiration of Saint Matthew. 1602. Oil on canvas. Church of San Luigi dei Francesi, Rome.

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

the school of athens



Beautiful Raphael, the bold and ambitious, still staring back at us from within his masterpiece, nearly lost among the bustling bodies of great philosophers— rooms away from the work he so admired, painted by his bitter rival. It is said that when Raphael sneaked into the Sistine Chapel to catch a glimpse of Michelangelo's progress one night, he was so taken by what he had seen that he decided to include a portrait of the temperamental artist within his own fresco, front and center. While others are engaged in fierce debates or study texts, Michelangelo, representing the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, seems adrift in thought— his body powerful beneath his smock, as muscular as the figures in his magnificent ceiling.



It seems cruel that Raphael was only given thirty-seven years on this earth, but oh how much he managed to give us in that short amount of time...

Monday, August 8, 2016

laocoön



Laocoön and your pretty sons, the twisting of your flesh and serpents entwined in your limbs still command awe— were you the ones looked upon by Pliny himself? How many eyes have studied the lines of your agony since your creation?

a dream realized



Among my bedtime stories were my mother's art books. I have wanted this ever since I can remember.



The older I get, the more aware I am of how brief our time is. I suppose it's only natural. While staring up at the twists of spine and muscle so beautifully painted over 500 years ago, loved by so many, my vision became hot and blurred.



I am so utterly grateful.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

what beauty hands can make




From the Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga:
Nuno Gonçalves. Panels of St. Vincent. c. 1470. Oil and tempera on oak panels.
Unknown Master. Female Portrait. c. 1620–40. Oil on canvas. 
Jacob Adriansz Backer. Courtesan. c. 1640. Oil on canvas.
Francisco Vieira, o Portuense. The Lamentation. 1800. Oil on canvas.
Unknown Flemish Master. Female Portrait. 1569. Oil on canvas.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

a little drawing break



I love that the Rijksmuseum invites their visitors to get creative. Pedro and I couldn't resist— I sketched a member of museum staff on a break, while he decided to revisit a caricature of me proudly carrying a large roll of paper. I still need to use that paper...



Can you spot our drawings?

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

clean lines and bright washes



I was really taken by the roughness and simplicity of these botanical sketches by Theodoor Willem Niewenhuis — they are so fresh with such clean lines and bright washes; something you would see out of a sketchbook today, though they were painted around 1895.



And then there were these beauties by Richard Roland Holst and Theo van Hoytema from around 1892 and 1900:



It makes me want to take a walk down to Rabat's botanical gardens with a sketchbook...

Saturday, October 24, 2015

botanica



Jacob Marrel. Sheet from a Tulip Book. c.1640. Watercolour on parchment. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
Crispijn van de Passe I. Title Page and Eleven Prints of Flowers, Plants, and Fruit, from Cognoscite lilia agri. c.1600–1604. Engravings. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.