DC meanderings -1

Too tired to venture out anywhere else, I headed back to Smithsonian, where it was a chance happening that I entered the Botanical garden. Well, even though I’m not too fond of appreciating mother nature’s flair at fauna, it turned out to be a nice surprise.

Once you enter the building, the first room is full of miniature replicas of the main structures in DC, The Supreme Court, Library of Congress, the Capitol, Smithsonian Castle, et al; all interspersed with bright trees. I couldn’t really make out whether they were leaves or flowers themselves, ‘cos I have never seen, white, blue and red leaves; and since I’ve been too lazy since then to even google, that mystery stays a mystery…unless one of you kind inquisitive folks would go through the trouble for me.

It was literally raining inside, and that was when I realized that the sprinklers on the ceiling were spraying a thin spurt of water every minute or so, well, so much for taking a bath in the morning.

It might not be something that blows your breath away, but the variety of plants and the flowers in full bloom in the winter does present a soothing sight. There were Orchids, purple and white, but the ones that caught my eye were the cacti family. First you get to see that variety that you mostly get to see in cowboy movies, or the ones in roadrunner cartoons (beep beep),you know, the tall forked ones. And you can also see the round shaped ones, all with their own peculiar design, and the one which has white whiskers growing all over it, making it the grand old man I guess.

The maintenance work is another thing that amazes me here, the small waterfalls inside, the rocks placed so neatly in a natural fashion, the greenhouse environment, and the parts where the shrubbery gets real thick, all presents a good experience.

Next up, well since you are a stone’s throw away from the Capitol, so I decided to trot up the front (rather the lawns on the back side) lawns of the US Capitol. It’s a bit strange to see people roaming around so freely, without much interference, so close to such an important place. And there was also a group of lazy bums on the strollers, having a nice time on this sunny day.

 The view from the Capitol, past the lawns, the small lake, the national Mall, right down to the Washington Monument, is now one of my favorite ones. The lush green grass cut to a decent height and the big flock of black birds flying around in front of the Smithsonian castle and a bunch of people playing touch football on a lazy late evening, and you can be simply immersed in it all.

Now, I’ve never been a fan of dear old Pablo, and I do have a very, take my word for it, a very vivid imagination, I still could not find the subject matter in the painting below.

Oh, for benefit of the confused, the painting’s titled ‘Nude woman’ by Pablo Picasso.

The big head formed out of what is made out to be a tree trunk is quite something. Standing taller than a 6 feet tall person, the emotions that the artist has been able to generate with the help of the different shades of the tree bark, and the moss making up for facial hair and that on the scalp, with twigs, and branches jutting out to retain the illusion of a simple tree, simple and at the same time, something that makes you stand there in front of it to keep on admiring it for some time.

 

The collection here is not that bad, with a bounty of Monet, Pissarro, Seurat and Renoir thrown in. I particularly liked ‘the bridge at Argenteuil’ and ‘Sainte-Adresse’ by Claude Monet, ‘Washerwomen on the banks of the Durance’ by Paul Guigou and ‘the ramparts at Aigues-Mortes’ by Frederic Bazille. Monets works were a bit more bright but were still a treat for the eye. And of course there was Vincent with his famous ‘Farmhouse in Provence’ with his broad brush strokes making up the grass in the foreground with the solitary farmer walking through it.

There were works also from later day artists as well, Henri Matisse with his oilwork. I wonder how all these Frenchmen were great painters, either they had a lot of talent and a lot of time on their hands, or probably they had outsourced their works to ghost painters in their time, which if they had, I guess they should be honored for the offshoring industry boom, or they went simple by eliminating the better painters of their times. I’d put my money on the last theory! Rene Magritte ‘s (thank god a Belgian) painting within a painting illusion ‘La condition humaine’ is surprisingly simple and mesmerizing.

 
The west wing houses most of the early day sculptures, a few human anatomical, a few of the gods, a few reflecting the fantasies of the artists, a few simply of animals. Most of these are marble, with a few blended with bronze as well. The Chester dale collection that was at display did take up a significant part of my trip, the Monets in particular are simply to be experienced in person.

The gallery does have benches in the middle of the halls to sit down and gaze, but its not the same with people walking all around, and in front of you ; all I ask is to be left alone to simply gaze at the artwork in peace and solitude….I guess that’s why most of the patrons bought these and put them up in behind their own four walls. Monet’s ‘bridge over a pond of lilies’ is quite something, to be able to recreate the beauty of nature with the help of oil paints and canvas, and mix a little bit of your own imagination on the palette is something that I wish I was able to achieve as well, oh well one can dream, can’t one?

The other impressionist era painter that caught my eye was Amedeo Modigliani, at first it was his last name (that is the same as that of Modigliani of Modigliani Miller fame, for the uninitiated Franco Modigliani was a renowned economist, known mainly for the modern theory on capital structure) that held up my gaze.

But a few moments later, the paintings were also in the picture, so to say. Finally an Italian artist, not a French one, and his paintings were a bit different as well, with the human face in all having an elongated shape, which to me sometimes felt a bit disproportionate to the body. But it was all in the eyes, I don’t know why, but the eyes by themselves are able to exhibit so many different emotions that the rest of the painting sometimes just fades away.

In the east wing again, the basement has influential works from the abstract expressionists, and there was Jackson Pollock as well. The artist had towards the later part of his career started to label his paintings simply by number, not even a title, his reasoning being he wanted the viewer to be rid of any preconceived notion, to see it as he/she deemed fit, use your own imagination to try and make sense of the work.

The ones on display here were number 7, and number 1; the latter also used aluminum in addition to the normal use of oil and enamel on canvas. I tried to use my own head to try and give a title to the ‘number 7’ but all I could think of was how the top right of the black and white painting resembled a weird face, while I was completely lost for the 5 minutes I was staring at ‘Number 1’, which just seemed to be an apt reflection of my life – completely jumbled up with no direction at all.

Then there was Henri Matisse’s later day works, wherein he took to making collages because of his medical condition. Funny, even when you are made incapable of painting in the conventional sense, the artist in you screams to be let out one way or the other, and he did it by making huge colorful collages. There were also displayed works of Andy Warhol and finally there was Alexander Caldor, who is credited for inventing the ‘mobile’, a neat kinetic structure that adorns the east wing at many places. There is one that I particularly liked, not a mobile, just a man’s head shaped out of wire hanging from the ceiling, and the lights shine down on it so cleverly that you can see two different shadows of the man’s face on the white wall next to it. The mobiles themselves are quite impressive, not just by their size and structure, but the way they maintain an equilibrium and also project those hauntingly beautiful shadows on the walls.

It was good to see such a diverse set of paintings, not just the fruit bowls, which were also there in plenty believe me, but the landscapes, the human form, the abstracts (read Picasso), the statues, the wireworks, the modern arts, and some photographs thrown in as well. Maybe if I also paint something incomprehensible by people in my time, indulge in debauchery, experiment with a lot of different drugs and alcohols, and die as a young, penniless artist, then who knows, my works could also be worth millions in some future era. One sure can dream!