Sunday, October 16th: The ignorance of the masses

My entire life I have always had a refulgent affinity for French culture. Aside from the French blood that runs through my veins and my sybaritic obsession with their fine cuisine, I am consumed with wonder at the fine works of art this country has produced throughout the centuries. While I profess that I am by no means an expert, I can tell Monet apart from Van Gogh and enjoy everything in between. This is why I could barely hold still when I learned that Kyoto’s Municipal Museum of Art was hosting a collection of the Louvre’s 19^th century paintings. On the last day of the exhibit’s viewing in Kyoto my friend and I met at the massive building that houses Japan’s own time-honored national treasures and waited patiently as lines of interested onlookers were in our same position.

What I did not realize was that this experience was going to evoke more frustration at Japanese culture than a reverence for that of the French.

I find it extremely contemptible that a nation so predisposed to social convention and masking illicit feelings with calm façades would allow 73 of the world’s most beautiful paintings to go virtually unnoticed at the eyes of the 5,000 visitors that peppered the museum’s halls. Yes, the crowd that traveled to the museum today was large, but the aesthetics of this masterful collection were abhorrently destroyed by the fact that hundreds of people were allowed in at once, clamoring to be as close to each painting as possible, pushing, shoving, and even yelling at each other to see each piece.

Ushered around with security guards yelling for visitors to move along, careful not to spend too much time at each painting, impatient viewers nudged and even verbally assault those who chose to stand in front of each piece of art more than 30 seconds. Not only that, but large pieces such as Vernet’s “Deer Hunt” and Franque’s “Allegory” are quite large paintings that kiss the corners where the walls and ceilings meet, but the majority of the viewers were so focused on attempting to come within inches of the paintings physical matter, that they lost the overall meaning of the piece. When in the Louvre, MOMA or even the Minneapolis Institute of the Arts, a true art connoisseur takes his or her time to take in the breadth of the piece, not simply the depth. Rather than peering over the partitions that separate us from the historical pieces or even attempt to touch noses to glass-encased artwork, it is important to stand back and assess the work as a whole, not only within each piece, but in the exhibit as a whole. That is the entire responsibility of the curator, but unfortunately this was one of the most poorly curated exhibits of which I have ever partaken. It was so disappointing it was stunning. Rather than search for words, which could have not even left my tongue due to the language barrier, I stood appalled at the masses of people that were being herded like cattle through the exhibit, with nearly 50 people in front of each painting. It wasn’t an art exhibit, it was a race to the finish to buy the cheap, plastic souvenirs at the end.

Never have I been so frustrated. I had looked forward to this exhibit since coming to Osaka, particularly with my fascination for French culture and proud French family history. Bumped and bruised from being pushed from painting to painting I realized that cultural barriers transcend beyond that of language and cuisine but exist in the very fabric of life that we come to know so well in our own familiar environments.

What I find so diabolically forlorn is the fact that many of the pieces were full of awe and wonder and in any other setting or under any other curator would have been exquisitely appreciated. Like a fine diamond, one has to take their time to examine each crevice and line to see all the ways in which the piece was put together. From brushstrokes and facial expressions to foreground and colors, one could spend hours, days even weeks studying a particular painting. With the desolate sadness of paul Delaroche’s “La Jeune Martyre” (The Young Martyr) to love’s perfection that fills Cupid with joy in Picot’s “Cupid and Psyche,” each of these pieces was meant to be examined carefully. We all make choices in our lives for particular reasons, and each artist’s brushstroke or sculptural shaping gives us an insight in to the human condition. Unfortunately the only human condition I saw today was one of morose disregard for the truth and an impatient desire to see as many paintings as possible in as little time necessary.

Heartbroken and crestfallen I left Kyoto tonight with a new energy to truly appreciate life. We have so little time on this earth and so many wonderful things to do and beautiful things to see that “stopping and smelling the roses” does not even come close to the way I want to embrace life and everything it holds dear.