Yesterday. Worcester Art Museum.
Sarah walked from art piece to art piece, carrying her sketch pad and a pencil. She jotted down notes. Usually just the name of the piece, sometimes words. I’m not really sure. I found myself torn between looking at the art and watching Sarah’s reactions to certain pieces..
We wandered from gallery to gallery until we entered a magical display that mesmerized Sarah from the moment she walked in.
Hymn to the Earth: Photographs by Ron Rosenstock is an exhibition full of vibrancy, magic, light and atmosphere, all in tints of black and white. Each image was more intricate and beautiful than the rest, and each inspired a snippet of story. Of course, because of copyright issues, I’m not allowed to post those images here, however if you click on the above link it will bring you to the Worcester Art Museum page including an interview with the photographer about his work.
I can’t resist including at least one image here. So I will borrow one from his own website and hope that I am forgiven, as it is only intended to praise and lead others to him.
Each of us were drawn to different images. My favorite is called Stone Circle at Sheefrey, County Mayo, Ireland. Trees surround a crumbling stone circle, leaves pouring over its edges. Somehow he caught the atmosphere at its most magical. I can almost hear the faerie folk singing as their power builds. To me, it is the circle of the Storyteller, on the verge of the forest. It is the home of a story I am slowly starting to tell.
I bought a card a pinned it over my desk.
Sarah fell in love with an image called Muckross Abbey, Coounty Kerry, Ireland. In it you look through an arched stone doorway, past arched columned windows through which the sun cast its glow. At the end of the hall is a small, black, rectangular door. When Sarah and I looked at it, I said, “I can almost sense a ghost coming through . . . I can sense the history.”
I splurged and bought the book about this exhibition. Each image is paired with haiku’s written by Gabriel Rosenstock (no relation). Here is poem opposite Muckross Abbey:
“Muttering in Latin
on his daily rounds
the abbey ghost”
I feel the chills of inspiration and creativity.
Ron Rosenstock was in the gallery as we wandered through the exhibition, but Sarah was too shy to say anything. I was too much in awe and caught up in the magic of creative possibility. I found myself walking in story.
We wandered through the rest of the museum, and (as I mentioned yesterday) I tended to be drawn to the feminine divine. I was also fascinated by the miniatures, perfectly painted portraits of women.
Sarah got excited by the display of Paul Revere’s creations. She just learned about him in school and somehow seeing something crafted by him made the history more real. It was fun to see her excitement.
Wandering through the modern art exhibit, a certain famous painting of a can of soup, led to a discussion about whether or not something was art, as well as interpretations of the images we saw.
That too, was fun, but I will treasure always the image of Sarah sitting in front of a mystical photograph of three small waterfalls and writing this:
Water rushing through the wind
Water falling in the river
go with the flow.
It doesn’t get better than that.