We saw the Matisse cutouts show at MOMA. One can't help but be entranced by all the inventiveness of Matisses's late career work; all the exuberance of the colors and shapes are wonderful. He takes what is basically a limited repertoire of shapes and colors, and subjects them to all kinds of permutations. But it is, in essence, decorative art, and there is a little churlish part of me that wants to complain about that. And it would have been interesting to see a little more context in connection with Matisse's previous work. (At one point Matisse himself quotes his famous early work featuring dancers.)
The Schiele portrait show at the Neue Galerie was fascinating, in that it showed some sides of Schiele that I hadn't seen before. While I am quite familiar with the expressionist, morbid work; I hadn't seen some of the drawings he made for his patrons, which are considerably more traditional. It seems that he adjusted his style, depending on who he was drawing. In fact, he had a small number of committed patrons who commissioned him for portraits. What also comes across is the sheer artistic talent, the guy could really draw.
There was a wonderful portrait of Schoenberg:
As well as one of Webern:
The Metropolitan Museum has redone its galleries featuring art from 1900-1950.
They have followed the model of the Tate Modern in arranging things thematically, rather than the traditional standard groupings by various "isms". In addition, they mix together some relatively unknown American painters with the better known European ones, which makes for some interesting juxtapositions. And photographs are in the mix as well. The thematic notions are, as is to be expected, a bit forced at times, but they can be ignored and you can make up your own associations. The relatively empty (of people) galleries make for a nice, contemplative atmosphere, and I enjoyed my time there.
Another fascinating exhibit was one featuring the paintings of V. S. Gaitonde at the Guggenheim. Gaitonde was an Indian abstract painter who died in 2001. Looking at the paintings without knowing anything about the artist, I would be hard pressed to say where he was from; there is nothing "Indian" about them, at first glance. This thought brings to mind the extended discussions in Stoppard's "Indian Ink" about being an "Indian" painter, and should an Indian artist paint like a European or an Indian (whatever that might mean). And, in fact, the son of the Indian artist in the play is also a artist, who paints abstract paintings, much to the disappointment of the elderly Englishwoman he is conversing with. In any case, the paintings are absolutely mesmerizing; Gaitonde apparently worked slowly, applying a number of innovative techniques to his work.
Photos, which don't do any justice to the luminescent quality of the paintings:
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