365 Days at the Met

 December 20, 2020 Gallery 604 -  Italia! Specifically, 15th century paintings, sculpture, and decorative objects, largely, although not exclusively, from Florence. The last items include two cases of ceramics, mostly from Faenza and Deruta; I'm happier to see them here, where they seem at home, than in other places in the museum. Today's first work is a double portrait by Domenico Ghirlandaio of Francesco Sassetti and his young son Teodoro, measuring about 30" X 24" and painted about 1488 in tempera on wood.  The choice of this work felt inevitable to me - less, I have to say, because of its intrinsic qualities than because it reminds me so much of Ghirlandaio's painting of a grandfather and his son that hangs in the Uffizi and is one of my all-time favorites.  Francesco, according to the caption, was 67 when the portrait was painted, although he looks much younger. The text also says that the painting was intended in part to commemorate Teodoro's older brot

 December 26, 2020 Gallery 603 houses paintings of religious scenes by 15th and 16 century Northern and Italian painters. It turns out that interconnections and influences are a major theme of this new installation, and that is very clear in this gallery. We see how Bellini influenced Durer and Memling influenced ... everyone.  The Durer painting, entitled "Virgin and Child with Saint Anne," was painted in oil on wood around 1519 and measures approximately 24 inches high and 18 inches wide.  The three figures occupy almost the entire canvas and have a kind of solidity I associate with Italian works of the period - partly a result of Durer's trips to Italy, I assume. Both the composition (a triangle, essentially) and the color scheme (shades of rose in the Virgin's dress and in the flesh tones of the faces; white in Saint Anne's garment, which looks like a nun's habit) are simple, so that our attention is drawn to the expressions of the figures. Again, the Vir

December 24, 2020 Gallery 602 centers on 15th century oil painting. The north side of the gallery presents religious scenes by Netherlandish painters, the south side portraits by both Italians and Northerners. In general, I have no trouble distinguishing the provenances, but it's useful to be reminded yet again of the influence of Flemish artists on their Italian counterparts. (Actually, I'm beginning to think that the cross-influences of various painters and schools may be a guiding theme of all these galleries.) I'm immediately drawn  to a portrait of a man by Cosimo Roselli, a Florentine painter unfamiliar to me whose dates are 1440 -1507. Long and narrow (perhaps 20 inches tall and 14 inches high), the panel, executed in tempera on wood, is enclosed in a beautiful frame. It's the palette of the painting - specifically, the subject's bright red garment, edged with narrow strips of ermine, and  the fact that he is shown against a light blue sky- that makes the wo

 December 19, 2020 Gallery 601 takes as its theme the influence of Rome on 17th century painters. Introductory signage discusses the number of painters who came to Rome, some  from other countries (these include Ribera, who once having arrived in Italy, never left, and Velazquez)  some from other places in Italy. Even painters who never made it to Rome were influenced by those who did. I knew that Bolognese painters were of some importance, but I was surprised to learn that Annibale Caracci (who was born in Bologna and then went to Rome) is cited with Caravaggio as  one of the two most important painters of 17th century Italy. I've been thinking that, in visiting these galleries, instead of selecting just one painting as the "work of the day," I should choose two - one that I love and one that unexpectedly surprises or impresses me. It was easy to choose the one I love - a "Virgin and Child" by Murillo.  Painted in 1676, and roughly six feet tall and four feet w

December 10, 2020 Before this project began, I think I regarded the European paintings collection as "the heart of the Met."   I guess I now think that the museum has many hearts. I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to explore so many other  collections, to have been exposed to if not immersed in the cultures and artistic traditions they represent. But turning to the European paintings galleries feels like a reunion with my oldest friends. The timing is also quite fortuitous. The skylights above these galleries needed to be repaired (or replaced, even?), and the galleries have been closed to the public since sometime in 2018. Just today, the majority of them, although by no means all, were reopened for a museum members' preview. I'd worried that the rooms would be very crowded, but they weren't. Before returning to gallery 600, which stands at the top of the central stairs to the second floor and, on first glance, seemed to contain some extremely large an

I   realize that it has taken me nearly as long to get through these 53 galleries as it took to explore the previous 170, my progress having been interrupted by two eye surgeries, two trips of several weeks each, and then the pandemic. In many - maybe most - of these galleries, I found more to admire than to love, but in almost all of them, I found some works of amazing beauty and craftsmanship. And - this just occurs to me - one can learn as much or more about a culture from its smaller objects as from its grand paintings, sculptures, tapestries, and the like.  The rooms make me think about the challenges of curatorship. First is the issue of display. Rereading my blog entries, I couldn't help noticing how many times I'd used the word "dim." The lighting in so many galleries made it hard to see fine or not-so-fine details (like what colors walls were painted in the period rooms!), much less to read captions. I fully appreciate that brighter lights could fade fabrics