The Metropolitan Museum of Art Through Multiple Kids’ Eyes Part 2

Click here for part 1

When they finished thinking, we entered the 19^th and early 20^th century painting rooms from the top. Dave caught up with us a little later after being sucked into the daguerreotype room.  (Because there’s something for everyone.)  This section of the museum should be easy to navigate, if you ignore the temptation that every location has to notice something a few doors down, yell, “Ooh! Pretty!” and run for it.  It is basically a grid of rooms, however, they don't all have doors between them, and whether or not they have them is obscured by printing on the map.  

Five thousand years of art at their disposal and they can’t handle a bit of graphic design.

Anabelle has navigating through there down to a science, but she was focusing on the art and talking to her cousins, meaning I took over the role, but asked her for pointers a lot. 

As usual, I was humming “Paul Cézanne” by The Special Guests near his works as we started.  I’m very grateful for YouTube and an expanded internet.  For years I thought I hallucinated it one night staying up to record midnight Star Trek airings, instead of actually seeing it on USA networks pre “Up All Night” short film show, “Night Flight.”

There was some excitement, as befitting our Doctor Who fan family in at the Van Gogh paintings.  Veronica in particular was fascinated by a potato peeling one.  In fact, she was a little over fascinated with every painting that had potatoes in it, of which there was a surprising amount.   The little ones were already starting to drag and began sitting on the benches immediately as they entered a room, then sliding along with the rest of us before transferring.

Energy picked up in the Degas rooms for our group of dancers.  Besides wondering again how my wife ended up in one of his paintings, I wondered other things aloud. 

“Did Degas have a kid in his family who danced, or was he just a dirty old man who hung around dancing schools?”

Seeing the next room where he focused on painting women as they entered and exited their baths skewed the answer in one direction.

But that made me wonder something else:  “Did Degas hang out in women’s bathrooms to sketch those paintings…or did he have a fake bathroom set up in his studio?”

Judging by the startled expressions in some of his other portraits, maybe that’s the latter as well.

While I was pontificating and the younger ones were bench hopping. Anabelle and Aurora were trying to recreate poses of the Degas statues. This was confusing, as they weren’t copying the dancer poses…but the horse ones.

Aurora also took the responsibility of letting me know what Anabelle had renamed the “Dancer Grabbing her Right Foot” as, “There’s a Snake in Mah Boot.”

Moment of (semi) seriousness. A tiny smidgen of research revealed the famous “Fourteen Year Old Dancer” was a neighbor of Degas.

She had to quit the dance school after she missed so many classes for posing.

I'm not sure if that’s better or worse.

As I said, this section contained most of the family favorites.  Grandma remembered many, and the emotions tied with them, including the woman in white who only looks pretty when seen from a distant room.  This is also the section Rosa wanted most of the photos sent to her of “her paintings.”

My favorite spooky woods picture was near the end of our trip through this area, as were Anabelle’s second and third favorites in the museum: “Springtime” and “The Storm” side by side by Pierre-Auguste Cot.  The earlier paintings down at the bottom are the most photo realistic. 

I think part of her fascination with them is the translucent lacework, which is something that always impressed me, along with the entire composition, of Henri Regnault’s “Salome.”  I guess I’ve always had a thing for foreign born brunettes.

Continuing to zig zag across the upper floor, the kids lacked the energy for anything but a speed walk through the Arabian and near eastern art.  However, they were impressed with the Assyrian Sphinxes.  Mostly to annoy Auntie Kim who “doesn’t care about Frodo, or his stupid ring,” Anabelle continued to point out variations of “the Horn of Gondor” stating they were all over the place and we needed to find a natural predator for them.

A couple of us followed Veronica’s detour into a Buddha room while others continued forward to a rest room.  There was a bit of a delay, and when Grandma and I both separately said to Anabelle, “They should have picked a more interesting section to make us wait in,” she concluded, out loud, that we must be related.

The passage through Asian art was another swift one, though they did enjoy a visit into the Ming Dynasty courtyard, where all the kids stacked up to copy the multi-armed and headed statues of the Indian art exhibits we passed.  I guess some of it did sink in. Although the dance based on the oddly posed bat painting in another room was more impressive.

On the way though Japan we discovered they didn't throw out, just moved, the weird but oddly attractive glass bubble covered taxidermy deer Sometimes art provides concrete examples that bizarre modern stuff doesn't have to be ugly.

Cutting around the balconies containing the collection of shiny things and spoons brought us to the newly completely reopened Musical Instrument exhibit. 

This exhibit, as always, was made of two rooms connected by two balconies. It is quite simple to see all the musical works of art by picking one direction and completing the circle.  That is, it is quite simple if you listen to the guy trying to tell you this, instead of everyone running in random back and forth patterns to see whatever caught their eye first.  Such as a Peruvian Horn of Gondor.

Ah well, sometimes art is too compelling for structure.

I was, once again, taken aback by the historical significance, over and above the beauty of the workmanship.  There were three, count em, THREE Stradivarius violins in there!  Additionally, mixed in with other old harpsichords and such was the oldest existing piano in the entire world.

Once you see a New York museum, it creates a lens that dims almost any other one. 

When we all finished looking, and gravitating towards our favorites…

I believe Veronica marked down the enormous combination tuba/ baritone horn as a life goal…

We went upwards into American art.

In that gallery, I once again proved how effective and forceful a leader I was.

In mid explanation about how we needed to follow a similar back and forth pattern to the European painting section in order to see everything, in spite of the huge temptation to run right up the middle hallway to the painting of Washington Crossing the Delaware…

My entire family ran right up the middle hallway to the painting of Washington Crossing the Delaware.

Then we followed a drunkenly staggering pattern back, reversing through the exhibit to insure we hit the Winslow Homer seascapes Kim was asking about all day, and the Hudson River school for me and Grandma.

We had to hit them, as Kim and Grandma started asking why we didn't see them as soon as we finished with the Delaware Crossing room. 

“Hey, remember when I told everyone about resisting the temptation to run right up…?”

Our exit strategy involved the traditional McGinley Family Mystery Science Theatering of the Modern Section at the end of the day.

My goal was to work us past the European decorative arts rooms on the first floor that we’d completely skipped over on this day.  Going down stairs, into the American courtyard, and crossing the armor hall again was easy.  Then things took a turn as most of those decorative rooms were closed.

I kept trying to end run around the closed section, but its magnitude forced us into the gift shop at this point instead of after the Modern Arting.  The wanderings also passed Anabelle’s favorite ugly fireplace and some Fabergé eggs. Wandering in the MET is almost never a waste of time.

As always, and worse with member discounts, there was much shopping, and losing each other in the shop, but we finished up and made another attempt to pass through inaccessible  Seventeenth century French rooms.

We did stumble upon the Roman Castle Patio I’m not sure I’ve seen before that had the Julius Caesar bust I assumed I made up, or remembered from another museum.   It’s cool how they move around priceless, centuries old works of art the way I move around Action Figures.

We just about reached the modern section and Kim asked about the “Uglino” statue that she’d seen from an overlook upstairs, figuring it was closed too.  I noted that gallery as well, and remembered people in it. Therefore I issued another fantastic bit of museum directions for the short back track.

“Go straight through there, and when you get to the marble butt, turn left.”

Then we worked back into the Modern section passing the O’keefe and Picasso’s before the silliness increased exponentially. 

The Mezzanine and upstairs had gone full on Avant Garde abstract.  I’m still majorly bummed that, not only did they remove my favorite cow painting, but the “cityscape” that only “works” when far away from it got reoriented removing the ability to see it from far away enough to make it “work.”

Morgan may have heard me complain.  Grandma heard him saying something near a completely white, smudgy canvas.  She looked over, and saw him facing it thoughtfully and taking single, controlled steps away from it while saying:

“Further…

Further…

Further…”

Until he backed into the wall and proclaimed, “It still doesn’t look like anything!”

At least one less abstract work allowed them to avoid the cliché of stating the modern section included everything but the kitchen sink.

We exited the exhibit and found ourselves in the little gift shop hallway we were in earlier.  No one noticed the entrance to Modern was that close to us at the time, because the piece of art on the wall at the entryway was a single fluorescent bulb, mounted in the normal way, but at a forty-five degree angle.

We all thought it was a light fixture.

I mean…it was a light fixture, but we thought it was for shedding light in the hallway, not as art.

Anabelle tried reading the description and explaining the intent, but once she heard it was one of nine, Grandma was far too tired for societal commentary on functional design as an art work, and we had to get her out of there before she yelled loud enough to frighten strangers’ children, or caused property damage.    It’s probably for the best I didn’t know then what further research pointed out- many of the other nine are also in museums

The requisite stops of the clearance gift shop, and bathroom came before leaving.  Aurora was showing Anabelle a Monet coloring book.  I told her to make sure she didn't get the Seurat one, because those are really hard.

I'm always hysterical, but sometimes it takes research to notice.

Following another exciting trip through the revolving door, we drove back to New Jersey.

All the kids came with me this time, leading to an exhaustedly loopy pile of sing alongs on the way to Denville Pizzeria for meatless dinner selections.  (Thanx Grandma!!)