Ars Long Vita Brevis
I've been all cultural this past week.From Bellini to Braque, from Canaletto to Chagall I've stood and pondered the nature of Art and Artists. I've wrestled with concepts as far removed as action painting and the Venetian school. I've contemplated the effect the coming of photography had on the essentially hitherto pictorial nature of painting and drawing. In short, I've been cerebral.
Dearest went shopping. An artistic statement in itself.
What I did discover as I perused the collections in Venice's Guggenheim and Gallerie dell'Accademia is that I much prefer modern art to the overblown canvasses of Tintoretto and co.
Matisse, Picasso, Klee, Ernst and the rest, I think you're great. Who'd a thunk it?
Venice though. What a place - and to think I wasn't really looking forward to going. Yeah it's expensive but not that expensive given the fact that everything has to be transported via barge from the mainland.The glory of not encountering a car or any of them irritating scooters/mopeds that continentals take great delight in whizzin' about the place on was an added bonus.
You could walk everywhere but we often opted for the Vaporetto up and down the Grand Canal. Cheap and quick-ish, if a little noisy. The only thing I would berate the place for is the speed with which most restaraunts and bars close up of an evening. Pretty much dead after 10:00pm. Sort it Venice!
In other news there is no other news because I haven't seen a newspaper or heard a radio or TV all week. Until today that is.
I should be at Eastlands today watching the Blues and Bolton scrap it out but I'm full of a cold so Dearest has taken my place. So I log on to BBC's website for online comms and peruse photographs taken at the day's Premiership matches and who do I spot in the glorious sky blue shirt but Freddy Flintoff. Now I admired the man before but I can assure you he has just acquired God like status in my eyes. Shame about the smoking though - not much of a role model is it? Incidentally I don't believe this for a moment. "Let me go to the house of my Father" indeed. I reckon he said something along the lines of ahh, shit, I'm finally kicking the bucket and deep down I know that it's all been a load of twaddle, but that twaddle kept me in house and home most of my adult life.
Saturday night. September and they're selling Christmas cards in the supermarkets.
September.
1 comment:
Not to mention the chocolate coins to hang on the tree. Kwiksave have been dishing out their Christmas carrier bags since July!
Post a Comment