365 Days at the Met

September 25,  2019 Considering what a slog the last few galleries have been, it's especially a pleasure to look at the medals, statuettes, and other decorative objects from 17th century France that are on display in gallery 532. What impresses me most, perhaps, is the objects' variety. There is the obligatory large medal showing a heavily bewigged Louis XIV in profile. But there is also a medal portraying Henri IV, his wife Marie de Medecis, and the Dauphin on which the king and his spouse are clad in fanciful classical attire -- he wears a toga and sandals, she a clinging drapy dress that doesn't cover her knees-- while the Dauphin wears ... nothing, it appears. Above the royal family, at the top of the medal, hovers a dove, symbolizing, I suppose, the peace that Henri brought to a country riven by religious conflicts.  There are a couple of bronze statuettes of Christ. There is also an earthenware one of a  woman holding a baby in swaddling. The caption describes

September 23, 2019 Gallery 531 is another large, dark space, made even dimmer by the deep red brocade that lines its walls down to the hip-high wainscotting. In the gallery, we move backward in time to the era of Louis XIV. If home furnshings in the time of Lous XV were meant to impress through their elaborateness and use of costly materials, those of the previous century were meant to impress through their elaborateness, materials, and mass. Gone is the exuberance of the high rococo style. The objects in this gallery strike me as big, weighty, imposing, and rather graceless. .  One example is an armchair dating from about 1700-1710. It is made of carved and gilded walnut with a caned back (surprising to me - I didn't expect to see caning) and crimson velvet upholstery that looks so worn, it might well be original, although I know that's highly improbable. It's all very solid and geometric. The placard says that the chair is decorated with a double L (Louis' mon

September 20, 2019 Gallery 530 is essentially a display case showing objects of French faience (which, I learn, is tin-glazed earthenware) from the 17th and 18th centuries.  Most of the pieces were the gifts of J. Pierpont Morgan, and they are a testament to his good taste (and/or that of his artistic advisers). I feel like something of a traitor,  but I like many of these pieces as much as their Italian counterparts. Two objects in particular capture my attention. One is a rectangular table top, about 30 inches long and 20 inches wide, made in Rouen around 1725. Its raised edge and the central field are elaborately and delicately painted in orange, dark yellow, and deep blue with designs of flowers and scrolling and swirling leaves  and arabesques against a fine yellow "checkerboard" bacground. But what makes the table top so winning is its central design, which features eight pudgy, curly-haired putti playing musical instruments, among which I recognize a vio

September 18, 2019 The Met, I learn, is the world's largest repository of furniture adorned with hand-painted porcelain plaques made at the royal porcelain works at Sevres, and gallery 529 is home to many of these pieces. Today's first object, a small writing desk, is my favorite for its sheer loveliness and refinement. Perhaps 26 inches wide, 14 inches deep, and 32 inches high, it was made around 1774 of oak veneered with tulipwood, amaranth, mahogany, and stained sycamore, along with gilt bronze and symmetrically arranged soft paste porcelain plaques of various sizes and shapes, and is lined on the interior with velvet. The white plaques are set into a brilliant green ground and are delicately painted with flowers in shades of rose, violet, blue, and gold. The desk looks ornamental but is actually fully functional: The front drawer, when pulled out, reveals a writing surface, while the drawers at the top  stored writing implements. I read that this type of desk was

September 16, 2019 Gallery 528 is a formal reception room from the Hotel de Tesse', a mansion on the quai Voltaire built  between 1765 and 1768 for a countess. It is very grand, perhaps 60 feet long. It is also very dim; I can't read any captions without a flashlight. A few people stop to look at the labels, but for most, it seems to be a passageway between other galleries. More than ever, this gallery makes me question whether the Wrightsman Galleries are something of a white elephant for the Met. But then I hear a father explaining to his young daughter, as they pause for a moment, that the room came from a grand hotel in Paris (well, no), and that people back then didn't have electric lights and lit their rooms with candles (yes!). So maybe even the passers-by are absorbing something. But at what cost?  What I do find of interest in the gallery is the art - more precisely, two works. One is a self-portrait by a woman painter of whom I've never heard, Rose-Ade

September 11, 2019 Finally, in gallery 527, I've found a room that I like a lot. Its cream-and-gold paneling, dating from about 1775, comes from the Hotel de Cabris in Grasse. Perhaps it's that the room, which appears to be a square about 40 feet on a side, admits natural light. Perhaps it's that the furniture, while gilded, has simpler, less fussy lines than the pieces in previous rooms. Perhaps it's that the upholstery is also mostly in cream and white, making for a harmonious appearance. Or perhaps it's just that I'm in a somewhat better mood, having gotten a good report from my doctor about my eye infection.  I respond immediately and favorably to the two pieces at the front of the space (and maybe, too, that shapes my impression of the room as a whole). T he first is an adjustable reading and writing table made of tulipwood and dating from about 1760-65. I suspect that one reason I like it is that I mistakenly took it for a music stand, although

September 5, 2019 Gallery 526 is another grand salon, this one from the Palais Paar in Vienna. The furnishings are all French - testimony to the widespread adoption of the Louis XV high rococo style among the European aristocracy (and perhaps the haute bourgeoisie as well) in the mid-18th century.  When I peeked into this room yesterday, I noted optimistically that it has windows - frosted, to be sure, but ones that seem to back onto Central Park and admit natural light. My optimism turned out to be misplaced - this is yet another immense and dim space. The thought suddenly came to me, "This is what life was like back then - dark!" -- not in metaphorical but in literal terms. It makes you appreciate Edison's invention of the electric lightbulb all the more.  Today's object is what the caption refers to as a writing table and filing cabinet - although for the life of me, I can't see where the filing cabinet is - maybe it's the glass-doored case

September 4, 2019   I neglected to note ealier that galleries 522-535 are known as the Wrightsman Galleries, having been  established with an endowment from Charles and Jayne Wrightsman in 1963. I remember reading her obituary earlier this year - she died at 99- and being impressed by the story of a young woman from a modest background who married well (he was an oilman significantly older than she) and became a noted socialite and patron of the arts. She didn't attend college, but the two traveled widely and learned a great deal about art, especially 18th century French decorative arts. And they paid it forward, as major benefactors not only of the Met but also of the British Museum, the Louvre, and the Hermitage.  Galle 525 is a salon from a grand house in Paris, the Hotel de Varengeville, which was built in 1704 and stood on the Boulevard Saint-Germain. The room, which appears to be about 50 feet long and 30 feet wide, is a great space with cream-colored walls elaboratel