jlm110108
07-15-2006, 07:05 AM
Author's note: Here's a little more. No conflict, little angst, mostly just fun. I promise in the next few chapters we'll get back to crime solving!
Here's the link to Chapter 17:http://www.fanrush.com/forums/showthread.php?t=4632
Chapter 18
We pulled into a parking spot at the Norton Simon Museum, and Larry pulled in beside us. “I must say, Ben, there is an advantage to you having such a large vehicle. You were very easy to follow.”
“Oh, Larry,” Ben said with a chuckle, “it's not really that large. It's nowhere near as large as some others I've seen.”
We entered the museum, and found the Manets within minutes. The Norton Simon was much more user friendly than the Getty. The two paintings, an oil portrait of Madame Manet, about 20” x 24”, and a massive oil painting called “Rag Picker” were side by side in the 19th Century gallery. Ben studied them for a few minutes, then said, “They're about ten years older than the Chez Tortoni, but the styles are close enough that I believe they should give us a good comparison.”
“They're much darker than the Chez Tortoni or the Rue Mosnier,” Larry said, “and they look a lot ... smoother.”
Ben agreed. “Manet's earlier work maintained a lot of the traditional style. As he progressed, he adapted a more impressionistic style. But he never completely gave himself over to impressionism the way someone like Monet did. The other impressionists were rebels. Manet wanted to work within the system. I think he wanted to reform it from within. He never exhibited with the impressionists, and he entered paintings in each Salon. But, as hard as he tried, he was not able to conform to the establishment. His work was too different, too avant garde.”
Amita shook her head, “It looks pretty traditional to me.”
Ben smiled, “Well, you are looking at it in 2006, and it's quite tame after Van Gogh, Picasso, Andy Warhol, and Jackson Pollock. But in 1869, a few years after your Civil War, less than 100 years after the colonies broke from England, paintings looked a lot like...” he looked around the gallery until he located a portrait of a young woman, “Like that.” We walked over to the portrait, and Ben smiled and shook his head. “What an amazing coincidence. This is by Thomas Couture. Manet was his student.”
Charlie said, “It looks almost like a photograph. I can see how someone who was used to this would be shocked by that.”
Larry had wandered over to look at a portrait by Ingres. “You know, Charles, this was painted in 1806. Photography hadn't been invented. In fact, the closest anyone had come was Thomas Wedgwood. He made sun pictures by placing objects on leather treated with silver nitrate. The upper class were fond of decorating their abodes with portraits of themselves, and leather with silver nitrate would not suffice. Artists were the photographers of their time. But once photography was available, the artists were free to move away from realism...”
“Ah,” Ben interrupted, “but they felt they were being more realistic than the Salon artists, and perhaps even more realistic than photography. They were trying to capture a moment in time, and convey it to the viewer in a totally realistic way. Manet was at the very beginning of this trend. As he experimented, his techniques changed. But he was still Manet, and all of his paintings should have similarities that Charlie's program would be able to find.”
Charlie turned and began to pace. “We'll be able to determine whether the Chez Tortoni is real, and we'll be well on our way to perhaps solving the Gardner case. And after we talk to Don tonight, I'm hoping we'll be on the path to finding it again. Right now, solving the Gardner case is less important than finding our painting. I feel responsible...”
“No, Charlie,” Ben said, “It's my fault. If I hadn't asked Don to let me take the painting, this never would have happened.”
“Charlie, Ben,” I said, “why don't we just relax and enjoy the museum? There's no reason to stew over something you can't do anything about, is there? Just live in the moment.”
Charlie stopped pacing, and gave me a sheepish grin. “Live in the moment? I don't think I know how to do that.”
Amita took his hand. “Here, Charlie. I'll show you how. I suggest we go downstairs and look at the collection of South Asian art. We will enjoy the art, and we will not think about crime, or Manet, or impressionism until we talk to Don after dinner.”
“That's an excellent idea, Charles,” Larry said, “Look at it as cleansing the palate of your brain.”
“I'm not sure, Larry, but I think you've mixed some metaphors there.” He raised his hand as Larry started to object. “But I get your point. Amita and I will be downstairs.”
After they left, I took Ben's hand. “Dr. Cole, shall we find our own moment to live in?”
“Mrs. Cole, I believe that's an excellent idea.” We turned back to the Couture. It was titled “Reverie,” and was a lovely painting of a young woman. “You can definitely see Couture's influence on Manet, can't you?”
“I think it's probably his most notable contribution to the art world. Though this is a beautiful painting, isn't it?”
We spent an hour or so looking around the museum. There's something rejuvenating about just enjoying beautiful things. Even Charlie seemed somewhat relaxed after his time in the south Asia gallery with Amita. I don't know if it was the art or the company, but he wasn't fidgeting and pacing when they returned.
In fact, he was smiling. “That was a lot of fun, Maggie. I think I could get used to this living in the moment thing. There are a couple of special exhibits downstairs you might enjoy. They have 18 Rembrandt etchings. They are absolutely amazing. You know, Larry, Amita, they remind me of Margo's drawings.”
“Who?” Amita looked confused.
“The lady who was kidnapped to forge the ten dollar bill we analyzed? She did some amazing drawings.”
“Oh, right! That was the first time you worked with wavelet analysis,” Amita said. “Yeah, she was really good.”
“So, Ben, Larry, Maggie, want to go down and have a look? There's also this really weird exhibition of southern California 'light and space movement' art. Larry, I think you'd really enjoy it.”
“Weird? Charles? You think of me in the context of weird?”
“Never, Larry,” Charlie chuckled. “I was thinking of you in the context of light and space. Come on, have a look. I'm trying to remember how the sign phrased it... 'they shared an underlying interest in capturing and manipulating light to present shifting realities and perceptions.'.. wasn't that it, Amita?”
“Something like that. Larry, Charlie's right. You'd really like it. Weird or not.”
We followed Charlie down to the lower level galleries. The massive circular stairway led us into the middle of the southern Asia gallery. Charlie led us quickly through the stunningly beautiful items from India, Tibet and Kashmir, to the Rembrandt etchings. There were only eighteen, and they were tiny, as etchings usually are. But they were exquisite.
Then Charlie led us to the light and space movement exhibition. The sculptures and paintings were an odd counterpoint to the 400 year old etchings we had just seen. They were made of industrial materials – glass, steel, acrylic. But they were visually stunning. Larry was indeed fascinated by the way the artists had used the materials. At one point, he called Ben over, “You know, Ben, this is just an extension of what the impressionists were doing, isn't it? They tried to show light in their paintings. These artists have just gone a step further.”
Ben grinned, “You're right, Larry. I had never looked at it that way. I normally would just dismiss this kind of thing as, well, as less than art. Perhaps I'm no better than the salon juries who rejected the impressionists.”
“Oh, don't be so hard on yourself,” Larry said. “There is a line at which something ceases to be art, and becomes, well, as you put it, 'less than art.' And I believe that line is subjective, changing from person to person.”
“Well,” Charlie said, bending down to look through the floating bands of translucent color embedded in an acrylic block. “I like it. I don't know if it's art, but it's fun to look at.”
We wandered around the exhibits like kids on a field trip, until the PA system announced that the museum would be closing in fifteen minutes. Charlie glanced at his watch, and grimaced. “Dad's going to wonder what's happened.”
“Why don't you call him,” Amita suggested.
“Good idea.” Charlie took out his cell phone and dialed quickly. “Hey, Dad,.... Yeah, I know, we're over at the Norton Simon. We're just leaving.... Okay.... Need me to pick up anything on the way home? .... Okay.... See you in a few minutes.... Oh, he's there already?.... Yeah, I'll bet. .. Okay. See you!” He closed his phone and said, “Don's there already. Dad thinks he's getting a little impatient.”
Author's note: If you're interested, here's a link to the Norton Simon Museum's current exhibition page, from which I shamelessly stole the Rembrandt and light and space exhibitions: http://www.nortonsimon.org/exhibitions.aspx?id=6#116
And, if you're still awake, here's a link to chapter 19: http://www.fanrush.com/forums/showthread.php?t=4661
Here's the link to Chapter 17:http://www.fanrush.com/forums/showthread.php?t=4632
Chapter 18
We pulled into a parking spot at the Norton Simon Museum, and Larry pulled in beside us. “I must say, Ben, there is an advantage to you having such a large vehicle. You were very easy to follow.”
“Oh, Larry,” Ben said with a chuckle, “it's not really that large. It's nowhere near as large as some others I've seen.”
We entered the museum, and found the Manets within minutes. The Norton Simon was much more user friendly than the Getty. The two paintings, an oil portrait of Madame Manet, about 20” x 24”, and a massive oil painting called “Rag Picker” were side by side in the 19th Century gallery. Ben studied them for a few minutes, then said, “They're about ten years older than the Chez Tortoni, but the styles are close enough that I believe they should give us a good comparison.”
“They're much darker than the Chez Tortoni or the Rue Mosnier,” Larry said, “and they look a lot ... smoother.”
Ben agreed. “Manet's earlier work maintained a lot of the traditional style. As he progressed, he adapted a more impressionistic style. But he never completely gave himself over to impressionism the way someone like Monet did. The other impressionists were rebels. Manet wanted to work within the system. I think he wanted to reform it from within. He never exhibited with the impressionists, and he entered paintings in each Salon. But, as hard as he tried, he was not able to conform to the establishment. His work was too different, too avant garde.”
Amita shook her head, “It looks pretty traditional to me.”
Ben smiled, “Well, you are looking at it in 2006, and it's quite tame after Van Gogh, Picasso, Andy Warhol, and Jackson Pollock. But in 1869, a few years after your Civil War, less than 100 years after the colonies broke from England, paintings looked a lot like...” he looked around the gallery until he located a portrait of a young woman, “Like that.” We walked over to the portrait, and Ben smiled and shook his head. “What an amazing coincidence. This is by Thomas Couture. Manet was his student.”
Charlie said, “It looks almost like a photograph. I can see how someone who was used to this would be shocked by that.”
Larry had wandered over to look at a portrait by Ingres. “You know, Charles, this was painted in 1806. Photography hadn't been invented. In fact, the closest anyone had come was Thomas Wedgwood. He made sun pictures by placing objects on leather treated with silver nitrate. The upper class were fond of decorating their abodes with portraits of themselves, and leather with silver nitrate would not suffice. Artists were the photographers of their time. But once photography was available, the artists were free to move away from realism...”
“Ah,” Ben interrupted, “but they felt they were being more realistic than the Salon artists, and perhaps even more realistic than photography. They were trying to capture a moment in time, and convey it to the viewer in a totally realistic way. Manet was at the very beginning of this trend. As he experimented, his techniques changed. But he was still Manet, and all of his paintings should have similarities that Charlie's program would be able to find.”
Charlie turned and began to pace. “We'll be able to determine whether the Chez Tortoni is real, and we'll be well on our way to perhaps solving the Gardner case. And after we talk to Don tonight, I'm hoping we'll be on the path to finding it again. Right now, solving the Gardner case is less important than finding our painting. I feel responsible...”
“No, Charlie,” Ben said, “It's my fault. If I hadn't asked Don to let me take the painting, this never would have happened.”
“Charlie, Ben,” I said, “why don't we just relax and enjoy the museum? There's no reason to stew over something you can't do anything about, is there? Just live in the moment.”
Charlie stopped pacing, and gave me a sheepish grin. “Live in the moment? I don't think I know how to do that.”
Amita took his hand. “Here, Charlie. I'll show you how. I suggest we go downstairs and look at the collection of South Asian art. We will enjoy the art, and we will not think about crime, or Manet, or impressionism until we talk to Don after dinner.”
“That's an excellent idea, Charles,” Larry said, “Look at it as cleansing the palate of your brain.”
“I'm not sure, Larry, but I think you've mixed some metaphors there.” He raised his hand as Larry started to object. “But I get your point. Amita and I will be downstairs.”
After they left, I took Ben's hand. “Dr. Cole, shall we find our own moment to live in?”
“Mrs. Cole, I believe that's an excellent idea.” We turned back to the Couture. It was titled “Reverie,” and was a lovely painting of a young woman. “You can definitely see Couture's influence on Manet, can't you?”
“I think it's probably his most notable contribution to the art world. Though this is a beautiful painting, isn't it?”
We spent an hour or so looking around the museum. There's something rejuvenating about just enjoying beautiful things. Even Charlie seemed somewhat relaxed after his time in the south Asia gallery with Amita. I don't know if it was the art or the company, but he wasn't fidgeting and pacing when they returned.
In fact, he was smiling. “That was a lot of fun, Maggie. I think I could get used to this living in the moment thing. There are a couple of special exhibits downstairs you might enjoy. They have 18 Rembrandt etchings. They are absolutely amazing. You know, Larry, Amita, they remind me of Margo's drawings.”
“Who?” Amita looked confused.
“The lady who was kidnapped to forge the ten dollar bill we analyzed? She did some amazing drawings.”
“Oh, right! That was the first time you worked with wavelet analysis,” Amita said. “Yeah, she was really good.”
“So, Ben, Larry, Maggie, want to go down and have a look? There's also this really weird exhibition of southern California 'light and space movement' art. Larry, I think you'd really enjoy it.”
“Weird? Charles? You think of me in the context of weird?”
“Never, Larry,” Charlie chuckled. “I was thinking of you in the context of light and space. Come on, have a look. I'm trying to remember how the sign phrased it... 'they shared an underlying interest in capturing and manipulating light to present shifting realities and perceptions.'.. wasn't that it, Amita?”
“Something like that. Larry, Charlie's right. You'd really like it. Weird or not.”
We followed Charlie down to the lower level galleries. The massive circular stairway led us into the middle of the southern Asia gallery. Charlie led us quickly through the stunningly beautiful items from India, Tibet and Kashmir, to the Rembrandt etchings. There were only eighteen, and they were tiny, as etchings usually are. But they were exquisite.
Then Charlie led us to the light and space movement exhibition. The sculptures and paintings were an odd counterpoint to the 400 year old etchings we had just seen. They were made of industrial materials – glass, steel, acrylic. But they were visually stunning. Larry was indeed fascinated by the way the artists had used the materials. At one point, he called Ben over, “You know, Ben, this is just an extension of what the impressionists were doing, isn't it? They tried to show light in their paintings. These artists have just gone a step further.”
Ben grinned, “You're right, Larry. I had never looked at it that way. I normally would just dismiss this kind of thing as, well, as less than art. Perhaps I'm no better than the salon juries who rejected the impressionists.”
“Oh, don't be so hard on yourself,” Larry said. “There is a line at which something ceases to be art, and becomes, well, as you put it, 'less than art.' And I believe that line is subjective, changing from person to person.”
“Well,” Charlie said, bending down to look through the floating bands of translucent color embedded in an acrylic block. “I like it. I don't know if it's art, but it's fun to look at.”
We wandered around the exhibits like kids on a field trip, until the PA system announced that the museum would be closing in fifteen minutes. Charlie glanced at his watch, and grimaced. “Dad's going to wonder what's happened.”
“Why don't you call him,” Amita suggested.
“Good idea.” Charlie took out his cell phone and dialed quickly. “Hey, Dad,.... Yeah, I know, we're over at the Norton Simon. We're just leaving.... Okay.... Need me to pick up anything on the way home? .... Okay.... See you in a few minutes.... Oh, he's there already?.... Yeah, I'll bet. .. Okay. See you!” He closed his phone and said, “Don's there already. Dad thinks he's getting a little impatient.”
Author's note: If you're interested, here's a link to the Norton Simon Museum's current exhibition page, from which I shamelessly stole the Rembrandt and light and space exhibitions: http://www.nortonsimon.org/exhibitions.aspx?id=6#116
And, if you're still awake, here's a link to chapter 19: http://www.fanrush.com/forums/showthread.php?t=4661