Back in the Swing; Courbet at the Met

Okay, so we're back in the swing of things.
Let's jump right in.
What should be our topic this time?

How about a review of an exhibition? Bear my apologies, for I am writing this review almost 3 months after having experienced it.

Courbet at the Met:

I've always found Courbet to be one of the more interesting art personalities. I would imagine contributing as a major art world revolutionary would require so. But the Met has really brought this description home for me. The catalog picture, a close up self-portrait of the artist in a vulnerable state of exasperation, drives home the idea that you are getting more than you paid for. Between the politics, scandalous eroticism, and virtuous landscapes, who could ask for more? Let's take a peek, shall we?

A professor of mine once told me that the first reason a person looks at a painting is the visual quality. And that it is more often than not this characteristic that dictates whether the mobile audience of a museum stops and ponders, or skips and passes. Courbet's work has always had the attributes of the former. Upon first entering the exhibition space it is easy to notice the appeal of the artist's skill. Meticulously rendered landscapes are often not the first images associated with Courbet in the annals of history or among enthusiasts, but these are some of the first works the visitor comes across. This is either done inadvertently or, as I am reading too much into it, to whet the appetite for the rest of the display, which will further challenge our perceptions of this French Modern Master. It is through these picturesque visual appetizers of Flagey, the Seine, and the Valley of the Loue that the viewer is able to appreciate the delicate skill of Mr. Courbet's coordination. Rich colors pulsate from canvases over 150 years old. The lack of deterioration is noted, as there are portfolios by artists 50 years newer that resemble photographs of stilled lightning.

Swept up in the current of the aesthetics, you are pushed downstream to more figurative works. Bathers, Sleepers, and Beautiful Irish Women (or are they the same woman), hold frozen in time, as if their only reason for existing was to hold this pose for your eternal enjoyment. The gilded frames could serve to line a Victorian era mirror, which would be suitable because Courbet's subjects of nature, society, and the body easily reflect our own states of being and show us the layers of humanity.

Entire reviews could be written on his collections of self-portraits alone. Courbet's depictions of himself reveal his inclination to paint himself into different roles. You'll see him as the traveler in "Bonjour, Monsieur Courbet," the haughty young man in "Courbet with a Black Dog," and in a moment of instability as "The Desperate Man," the exhibition title shot.

Finally, we come to the maverick's treatment of the human body. And while not the last images you see as you exit the gallery, one might say they are the last ones you are thinking about when you do. A small grouping so controversial, back in the last half of the 1800's and today, that to see them in New York this year you have to enter a partitioned off area with a warning that the works included might not be suitable for children. And I agree with them. I don't recommend the recent Botox transfusion to step inside the parlor unless you have someone to raise your eyebrows for you, because you just might hurt yourself trying. A blatant, raw, all too honest painting titled "L'Origine du Monde" (The Origin of the World) is the show-stealer. I'm not going to drip the details for you here (in case some pre-teen is locked away in his room stealing a read from this blog), but it looks like what it sounds like, and then some. It was so scandalous back then that at the Met you get to read a little blurb about how fellow artist Andre Masson was commissioned by an owner of the Courbet work to create a landscape on a wooden panel, flirtingly similar to "L'Origine." This wooden panel, when slid aside, revealed the controversial Courbet piece, in a secret compartment. And who said museums were boring? While the rest of the show in no way disappoints, you might linger your way on from there, not really plumbing the depths of other artwork you see, but with a mischievous smile on your face as if someone let you in on a dirty secret.

All in all, some artworks catch the eye and interest more than others, but a show worth seeing if you really want to experience Courbet. So if you didn't make it to the collection this time around, don't expect this to be the last you hear of Monsieur Courbet. Although this is his first major retrospective in over thirty years, his colorful life and work promise to keep him in the spotlight of modern research and thought. We can only look forward to the next serving of his exciting imagery, and maybe this one will even let the children in.