Art Museums: my Refuge and Inspiration

I immerse myself in Art & leave the world behind.

Many years ago, I was divorced when my daughter was just a year old. Week-ends when she visited her father, left me rambling around finding something, anything, to stop the chatter of my monkey mind. I found myself at the Chicago Art Institute many times. The drive into the city, the underground parking, the making my way to the art I loved, were literally a journey to finding myself, my identity when I wasn’t ‘mom’.

I LOVE  the gorgeous masterpieces, especially the paintings. They were like the old Twilight Zone where the viewer finds themselves in the painting, living a new life in some enchanted world. The museum was my gate to a non-ordinary reality where flowers were dots, water was strokes, and grass was purple/gold/magenta/and ultramarine. It was Magic.

I had the same experience this last week-end as we visited my daughter in Washington, D.C. My first time at the National Gallery found us lost in the Renaissance of Madonnas with Child for hours. We were surrounded by classic Italian paintings that were wonderful, amazing, and famous. The colors were vibrant, frescoes were painted on plaster, and entire wall art was installed in rooms that could rival any church altar. These were things we had all studied as art majors at our various universities. To see them in person was truly a highlight.

Finally we came to two women at an info desk who directed us to the modern wing. There Wyeth, Sargent, and Whistler awed us with their overpowering presence. A dash of color becomes lace on a collar, blocks of strokes turn into a satin dress, and dabs of paint become the hint of a smile. Really a wonderful, sensual, fill your senses to the brim way of getting lost. It still holds the same power over me every time!