Playing Ketchup, Part I: Art Funski!!!

Self-portrait, 1630. Judith Leyster (1609-1660), Netherlands.
The National Gallery of Art, from The Flemish and Dutch Rooms.

Yars, Lars, me arse is fair freezin' in this frigid olde haus. Agggghhhhhh... so cold. Feel like the dying TB chick in her little attic-apartment in La Bohème, with big manly-man Rodolfo pronouncing, "Ah, Mimi. Thy lily-white skeletal mitt... 'tis so sublimely cold, I declare it a veritable chippy of ice in my holey moleskin pantaloons. Let's warm it up then, shall we?"

Hey, where's my Rodolfo? Right, damn.... He's already all cozied up in bed.

Geez, it feels like forever since I last posted, and yes... Yes, I made it back alive. Got back on Tuesday the 2nd, and decided to not beat myself up for not being quite so diligent about posting daily anymore... However, there are some fun things I wanted to share with y'all, so I'll just wrap up the rest of my amazing trip with some randomly random randomness so I can move onto other stuff with a clear conscience.

Here is my account of Day 11: Wednesday, November 26th, 2008.

The courtyard of the Freer Gallery. The Freer contains a vast private collection of ancient Asian, Middle Eastern, and early 20th-century American art from the likes of Singer Sargent and Whistler. Gorgeous, mind-boggling stuff.




In the Courtyard of the Freer, we have "Law, supported by Power and Love" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens (1848-1907)




"Awwwwww, dang, noooooooo... not the nuts!!!
Bite anything else, but please... Don't touch my nu-hu-huts!!!"






Outside the National Gallery and encircled by the adjacent outdoor Sculpture Gardens, there's a pretty little ice rink where you can go and skate. And lookie!!! It's a Zamboni!!! I don't know why, but I couldn't stop laughing when I saw it. Maybe I'm too easily amused. Or simply insane.

I filmed the optical illusion of Roy Lichtenstein's House I on my camera, and inadvertently got some guy's running commentary while doing so since this seemed to be the most popular sculpture on the grounds. While it might be a slightly nauseating clip to watch, I think you still get a pretty good gist of how cool a piece it is.

You'll have to forgive the funky angle of the shot; I particularly wanted to show you this one because I love how Van Dyck painted Susanna Fourment's gaze with such arresting sharpness in intelligence. The inherence of remarkable wit, strength, and discernment in her eyes elevates her from being yet another anonymous almost 500-year-old subject to being someone who would've been really fun to chat with about what it was like to straddle both court and bohemian life. Of course, being Peter Paul Rubens' oft-painted sister-in-law probably would've also given her front seat to some pretty eyebrow-raising happenings in Renaissance Europe as well...









"And if I perish, I perish." (Esther 4:16)

This was my dearest discovery at the Freer Gallery. One of my favouritest Biblical/historical narratives of all time is the story of ass-kicking Queen Esther, who saved the Jews from a potential massacre by risking her own life to plead their case while openly defying the Laws and highest-ranked male officials in the kingdom of Persia... including her husband, King Artaxerxes. It's breathtaking to see a silver serving bowl (used for figs? olives?) from her palace that may have even been used in her court... I loved this piece.

"Arrrgh, give ush a kish."
"Eh, heh heh... no, it's alright..."
"No, I shaid, give ush a kish."
"Eh, heh heh... no really, I'm okay."
"Look, what am I paying ye fer?"
"I dunno... And ye didno' pay fer a kiss! Tha's extra if you'se rotten teeth! So NO KISS!!!"

Meanwhile... *clink clink* *clink clink clink*

Oil on canvas by Quentin Massys (1465-1530), painted between 1520-1525. Netherlands. The National Gallery of Art, from The Flemish and Dutch Rooms.






Maybe it's just a sad indicator of how my brain works, but the first thought that sprang to mind when I saw this piece was, "Damn, what if my father came home and announced, 'M'dear, now that you are a ripe fruit of a woman at twelve years of age and a-ready for the sweet plucking, I have arranged a most advantageous marriage for you with a Polish nobleman of great wealth and prestige. While he is reputedly rather mad and over fifty years' your senior, your union will ensure your mother the most exquisite of ballgowns for next spring's season!'?" I would've promptly dropped my blue bouncy ball and run away to join the gypsies... which I probably would've done anyway if I was a Dutch noblegirl 'cuz that would've been a hell of a lot funner... albeit with more STD's likely in the camps. But oh, well: Antibiotics would've done the trick.




Leaving the National Gallery at closing and being transfixed by the twilight. Here is the Gallery without a flash...


and with.




The Metro Tunnel, heading home to SC's neighbourhood...
and The Heights.




My dinner at The Heights that night, consisting of ridiculously tasty ginger flash-fried calamari, a Maryland crabcake, and a pint of Guinness. Note the pathetic head on the Guinness... Had I read the board properly, I would've seen that it was FROM A CAN, and cost $6.75!!! Must confess to having felt utterly ripped off, as I would've happily experimented with a Brooklyn Lager on tap instead. Still, I guess a beer is a beer.

But what self-respecting bar...?!?




Another solo diner at the bar whom I thought had such a beautiful, interesting face. She also seemed to carry an air of quiet tragedy that I found intriguing, yet was so dignified in her carriage that I couldn't stop admiring her self-contained presence. I still wish I'd summoned the courage to go up and chat with her, as I'm sure she would've been an incredibly cool, thought-provoking person to have connected with on this trip.