Stolen!

A gang of armed thieves overpowered museum personnel at the E.G. Buehrle Foundation in Zurich on Sunday, making off with four major works: van Gogh's "Blossoming Chestnut Branches" from the Auvers period (shown); Monet's "Poppy Field at Vetheuil"; Degas' "Ludovic Lepic and His Daughter"; and Cezanne's "Boy with a Red Waistcoat" (not to be confused with the "Boy with a Red Waistcoat" in the National Gallery, Washington). The four are estimated at $163.2 million, and a $91,000 reward is being offered for information leading to the recovery of the paintings.

The Buehrle Foundation is actually home to several van Goghs, including a version of the November 1888 "Sower" and a Paris period self-portrait. At least the thieves only got one of them.

I Heart Apollo

This week in Mythology, we've been talking about my favorite Olympian, Apollo. I swear by the river Styx the following story is true.

Twelve years ago now, I made my first trip to Delphi. I've known about Apollo and Delphi since I was eight, so going there as a daytrip from Athens was more or less a pilgrimage. I opted to go alone via regular bus rather than do a group tour. Communing with the gods is not a matter for a group tour.

I arrive at the site just after 10 in the morning, a crisp November morning. I'm dazzled, I'm taking pictures left and right, nobody's around but me. I stop to take a break in front of the Athenian Treasury, when a stray cat jumps into my lap and demands a snack. I have no snack, but I have petting fingers, and kitty is happy. Suddenly, I hear a noise up the Sacred Way, and I look into the sun to find a man walking towards me: tall, gorgeous, blond hair cascading over his shoulders, shirtless, wearing sunglasses, jeans, and cowboy boots. No backpack, no camera to show he's a mere mortal. It's Apollo, stepped off a pedestal and into a pair of Levi's.

"Hi!" he says cheerfully. "Looks like you found a friend!" Yep, Apollo speaks English, and with a Southern-American accent like mine, no less. He sits next to me as I blurt out, "Uh, I like cats" and the cat jumps from my lap to his. (Smart girl.) Couldn't tell you how the conversation went after that except I remember he asked where else I'd traveled, and when I said Rome, he replied, "Rome's great! But I haven't been there in years." Not since the 4th century AD when they closed your temples, huh? I wanted to say. "Well, I've gotta go," he finally said and stood up to continue down the Sacred Way, coquettish cat trotting behind.

Dang, I think, why didn't I ask for something like the gift of prophecy when I had the chance. Or -- stupid, stupid, stupid -- a PICTURE???!!!!!

David on the Move?

Say what? Apparently some culture officials in Florence are considering moving Michelangelo's David from the Accademia, where he has lived since 1873, to a cultural park planned for construction outside the city center. The move, if it took place, would not happen for a few years. The reason? Complaints about congestion in the city center, where gaggles of tourists traipse from the Uffizi to the Accademia and stand in long lines for a glimpse of Florence's artistic treasures.

I can see the concerns about tourist traffic--those narrow streets definitely clog up--but the idea of moving David to some site outside the centro storico is anathema from a symbolic point of view. Michelangelo would be horrified! The statue was created as a civic emblem and stood for centuries outside the Palazzo Signoria as an expression of Florentine pride. He does not belong in some suburban "cultural park" that requires a schlep. And what about context? Part of the experience of David is seeing him in concert with sculptures by Michelangelo and others of the time and being able to make comparisons.

I hope this idea quietly goes away.

A Wee Bit Ironic

The Van Gogh Museum online shop sent out their latest email newsletter today (I don't know why I subscribe, it's just endless temptation) with a Valentine's Day theme. "Surprise your beloved with a gift from the Van Gogh Museum shop!" It goes on to advertise placemats and prints with one of van Gogh's Paris scenes of courting couples, an expensive handbag, candles for "dinner by candlelight," and a vase "especially for red roses."

Talk about irony. Even the excellent though short book "Van Gogh and Love" (also advertised) is all about how Vincent's luck was downright bad when it came to love. Poor Vincent would be eating that dinner by candlelight by himself, and that vase of red roses would be only for painting.

Purchases from the VGM shop benefit museum acquisitions, though, so order up for your sweetheart. If you have one.

North of Ithaka

I'm a sucker for travel memoirs, and right now I'm reading Eleni N. Gage's North of Ithaka, which has been on my list for a while. It is superb. Gage is the granddaughter of the Eleni Gage memorialized in Nicholas Gage's book Eleni, who had been executed during the years of Greek civil war following World War II. Eleni the granddaughter returned to Lia, the Epirote village in northwestern Greece where her family lived, and rebuilt the family home, which had fallen into neglect. In so doing she sought to reconnect with her personal identity as a Greek-American as well as reclaim her family's past.

Gage's ancestral connection to Lia keeps North of Ithaka from being just another expat-builds-house-in-foreign-country book. The memoir reads like her personal odyssey, filled with everyday situations (and blunders, told with terrific humor) while keeping an eye to the big picture. Particularly interesting are Gage's observations on village customs and rituals. Her degree is in anthropology and folklore, and it shows. I've spent time in Greece, but mostly in Athens, so I feel like I'm learning a lot about the region known as Epiros and the way of life there. Gage's writing is fresh and a pleasure to read--a highly recommended book.

Leonardo & Michelangelo

Today in Survey 2 class we'll begin our discussion of the High Renaissance in Italy. I'm already about 15 minutes behind, thanks to the seductive Early Renaissance, so I'll have to keep myself on task. Hard to do when we've got the Mona Lisa, the Last Supper, Michelangelo's David, and the Sistine Chapel (among others) on the list! Somebody will probably bring up Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code--and if they don't, I will. That is NOT Mary Magdalene in Leonardo's Last Supper, there is NO silly hidden code in The Virgin of the Rocks, and there is no way what's-her-name in the book could have pulled the latter painting off the wall like she does. (It's over 6 feet tall.) Dan Brown's author's note really wants people to think much of what he says is true, but it's fiction, folks.

As for the Mona Lisa, call me an art historical heretic, but when I see her in person--even the first time--she leaves me cold. I think it's overexposure. She's built up so much so that when you go to the Louvre and you follow the herd of tourists to her bulletproof case, you expect to be whacked upside the head. I wasn't. I wanted to be, but I wasn't. Still not.

Now Michelangelo's David is another story. No amount of tacky souvenirs (and that includes the Dress Up David magnet on my fridge), no amount of overexposure can take away from him. He is unbelievable. When you stand in front of him, he does make you tremble, he does take your breath away. I love Michelangelo. Feisty, curmudgeonly, my-way-or-the-highway, willing to argue with a Pope to defend his art. He was The Man!

Simon Schama's Power of Art

A friend lent me his DVD set of "Simon Schama's Power of Art," and I'm making my way through the episodes. The Caravaggio episode is fantastic and captures all the intensity--and paradox--of this artist who produced such sublime religious pictures yet had such a turbulent personal life. (I love love LOVE Caravaggio's work.) One of Caravaggio's last paintings, "David with the Head of Goliath," serves as the framing piece for this episode, as Schama begins and ends with it. The Jacques-Louis David episode is also excellent, revolving around the painter's "Death of Marat." As Schama explains, the "Death of Marat," for all its beauty, was born of violence and David's allegiance to a faction of French Revolutionaries. I saw that painting in Brussels many years ago--even knowing the story behind it, it takes your breath away.

The van Gogh episode is good but not the best van Gogh documentary I've seen. Schama uses "Wheatfield with Crows" as the framing piece here. He mostly avoids the usual sensationalism and makes extremely important points about Vincent's populism--his desire to produce an art for the people--as well as his education ("insatiable bookworm," Schama calls him). He also stresses the careful deliberation that went into Vincent's work, contrary to the oft-image of the mad painter slapping paint on the canvas. Andy Serkis (aka Gollum from Lord of the Rings) plays van Gogh in small segments, reciting quotations from Vincent's letters to Theo. He doesn't look much like Vincent, so this distracted me, and I could have done without the shot of Serkis eating yellow paint (the most sensationalist bit in the episode--well, it could have been worse, he could have been hissing "Myyyyy preccccious"). The choice of quotes to present, however, is excellent and shows the complexity of Vincent's character: tender one moment, selfish the next, visionary the next. Worth seeing.