A Day At The Museum

I spent some time in the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art last week, and it proved enlightening and thought-provoking.

The first thing I learned was that Germans are more reserved than the French:

The words “naked” and “nude” are defined as synonyms by the American Heritage Dictionary. “Naked” entered the English language from the German nakt, while “nude” derives from the French nu. Through centuries of use, the words have taken on subtle distinctions.

The ideal nude, often inspired by the poses of classical sculpture, has been viewed as the most noble subject in Western art since antiquity. During the 19th century, this tradition remained strong, even as Impressionist artists sought to represent the naked body with a new, unwavering realism.

The Modern tendency toward abstracted and expressive form means that depictions of the body diverge from classical, academic and realist ideals. Yet, the notion that to be naked is to be exposed and vulnerable, while to be nude is to be comfortable and at ease, remains valid in 20th-century art.

Walking among the museum's rooms, staffed by friendly men and women in suits, I considered their job reponsibilities. What is this overweight 40 year-old going to do if I pull this portrait off the wall? And if I run toward the door, how is this 20 year-old waif going to block my exit?

I viewed two pieces of art that made me consider the awesome lives of the obscenely rich and long-dead. Had I been so priveledged back then, would I have commissioned a bust of myself? Or my wife? Or, if I had a mistress, would I go the route of the man that commissioned this painting? (Forgiveness please, as the museum's website does not yet feature this work, and I could not find it elsewhere on the internet.)


The work is titled, "Portrait of Emily St. Clare as a Baccante". I do not recall the name of the long-dead rich man that commissioned the life-sized portrait, but I do know that a Baccante is down with Bacchus, who is also known as Dionysus, God of Wine and all-around party animal, whose divine mission was to mingle the music of the flute and to bring an end to care and worry.

How exquisite of a lay was Emily St. Clare that this guy would have her painted as such?

And where do you hang a portrait of your mistress? Keeping it at her place seems silly. The office, maybe?