Play in the City 2013

To “reread” the essay I wrote on my trip to the Barnes, I would, first of all, rewrite the “Barnes Version” essay, as opposed to the “Academic” one. I really threw in the former version at the last second as a joke; I thought I understood the difference between Barnes’ way of “reading” art and the academic way that he so loathed. I didn’t understand Barnes’ viewpoint well enough until we talked through his ideals for the Foundation in class. Now, however, I’m cautiously confident that I could look again at my painting of choice but focus more on what Barnes thinks is important, using both Dewey’s book and his to do so.

Because I wasn’t in class on Tuesday, I feel a bit behind, especially considering how many people have reflected on what we discussed in class. I can, however, reflect on how my opinion changed based on the readings and the movie. And, to be completely honest, my opinion didn’t really change! I already knew that the Barnes Foundation moved, and that it is now much more public. I think that that is great, because just being there for a few hours, I saw so many masterpieces artistically organized on the walls. Making a treasure like that more open and available is an important step when looking at the progression of society.

If I were to redo my Barnes experience, I don’t know what I’d do differently. I’d hopefully go on a day when I don’t feel as sick as I did when I previously went.  It was pretty bad timing, but I think I made the best of it, and found the experience to be stimulating and exciting!

I don't think I really look at my experience at the Barnes differently after watching the movie and reading the article. I already knew it had been moved, but I was happy that it was, or at least indifferent on the conflict over moving it, because I know I probably wouldn't have gotten the same chance to visit it as I did. I think it's good that the Foundation is more open to the public, but I also think it was fine before it was public. Similarly, the class discussion did not really change my view on the painting I analyzed. I'd like to look at it again, just to see if I notice anything else, but I do not think I would really have a dramatic change of heart regarding my opinion or reading of it.

I went to the Barnes Foundation without any previous knowledge about its background, and I'm gratified that I didn't watch the movie or read the articles about its "move" before I went there. Because then I wouldn't be ablt to enjoy any of it with a pure mind, since there would be so many conflicts going on in my head. Reading the background materials entirely changed my way of seeing Barnes Foundation. I felt a little guilty about going there, but I'm also glad that it was moved there so that I could visit. The sacred feeling it gave me originally about the building and the collection was crushed. From my perspective, it used to be a fabulous place for amazing artworks, but now it seems like a scandalous conspiracy. It surprised me that additional information could alter one's opinion so much and reminded me of the power of knowledge and education. I was also given a clearer outlook regarding Barnes and his collection, which is not only valuable financially, but also in terms of its original goal to educate.

After recollecting my thoughts on our class discussion on Tuesday, the essays and the movie I came to a couple of final conclusions. It made me wonder, who is art for? We have art museums but what role in society do they play and ultimately what is their purpose? To share art publicly to everyone in society or only the worthy educated ones? Do art musuems single out certain people in society? I'd like to explore different art exibits and how they welcome the public and also take into consideration where they are located. 

For my last Play in the City outing, I want to go somewhere where I don't feel eyes prying on my every move. I want to be able to go somewhere where I can roam and prance around, not necessarily physically but perhpas prancing around in my thoughts while humming or maybe even singing to songs in my head. I want to be able to see some form of creation with purpose, something sole. I was thinking of walking in on a music venue with live music, but most are open late at night after our final meet. I want to experience art, but less formal and more inviting, more intimate. I'd like to propose going to the Expressive Hand in Philadelphia on 622 S 9th St. I want to be able to create something that reflects my thoughts, something that speaks out to me. It would be a great way to end this journey because rather than observing, I would like to put it all into a piece of pottery and create something. 

Knowledge about the Barnes Foundation's history has changed my outlook on the new Barnes Foundation and the art within its walls. I have a high respect for Albert Barnes that I didn't have before. He spent his life collecting all of these amazing pieces of art so that he could protect them. He didn't care about their worth. He cared about the works for the pieces of art that they were. He wanted to guard them from the people of the art world that cared more about their monetary value than there inherent worth. It makes me very happy to know that there are people that really do care about these works and wanted to give the most common citizens access to them. And importantly, he didn't just wants to see the art, he wanted us to learn from it. I feel like I tried my best to do this during my viewing of The Postman. I'm still figuring out how I want to improve my essay, but these are some thoughts I had after class on Thursday.

What drew me to this painting is primarily the subject matter, and the way the subjects seem to almost glow against the dark background. Two men in white and a ferocious tiger battle desperately deep in some jungle, and there is no way to tell who will win. The piece is “Scout Attacked by a Tiger”, by Henri Rousseau, and it made me think.

“Would you please turn on the light?” That’s what I first thought when looking at this painting, because the general appearance of this painting is very dark. The left side is darker than the right side, so dark that you can clearly see the tiny cracks on the painting due to it is very old. A woman is bending her back, drawing water from the urn. The light part on her apron makes her apron adds some three-dimension effect, and also makes it seem so heavy. The loose clothe and the creases on it make her clothes seem worn. The white cloth on her head covers her eyes, but it seems that she is looking at the bucket on the floor, tiredly. The light comes from the open door. There stands a woman, with something in her hand. I couldn’t see it clearly. I stepped back, tiptoed, stepped forward, and crouched: no matter what I did, I just couldn’t get what is in her hand. It seems long, probably a broom. There is a little child next to her. Her fingers are thick— she probably do a lot of chores every day. She looks like a servant, not hostess of a poor family, but servant, because the woman at the door dresses the same as her. Everything looks daily: the brooms, the buckets, even the women. Everything seems routine: the women may do it repeatedly, every day.

Flowing. Floating. Drifting. Orange and dark blue run by, through, into each other. Like the warm ocean current from the equator meets the cold one from Arctic, crushing, fusing, solving, dissolving, creating home for diverse beautiful oceanic creatures. A man in dark clothes stands still in the waves.

Barnes Foundation, with its modern, luxurious outlook, seemed just another museum to me. I expected the inside display to be one painting per wall, so that the artworks could be given sacred majesty and be enshrined and worshiped. On the contrary, paintings are placed close together, so close that, in order to keep them from fighting for space, they are separated by huge keys, carved fences, and spearheads. Now that the artworks exist in peace and harmony, they talk and dance with each other. Two pieces of the same painter share similarity or symmetry; a huge portrait of an elderly man surrounded by smaller portraits of children like an old man surrounded by his grandchildren; an ancient African painting looks like a 19th century work; a painting and a sculpture have astonishingly similar patterns.