I went to the Denver Art Museum this Saturday to get a little culture back in this heathen body. Oh, and by the by, the first Saturday of every month is a free day, so all that culture came at a very likeable price.
I went by myself, not a totally uncommon thing for me to do, but it was a unique experience to visit the Art Museum alone. I really enjoyed it, on the one had, because I could take my time admiring the pieces I found beautiful and I had no one pushing me through. However, I didn’t have a person to bounce thoughts off of or to relay my joy or disgust over a certain piece. With that said, you guys all get to be that other person after the fact! So away we go!
First, I made the obligatory pass through the Western Art wing. While I spent most of my time wondering why on earth I had even visited this section of the museum (yawns!) I was struck by several pieces that I felt captured “The West” in an interesting and captivating manner without being so Bob Ross paints a canyon with a happy river flowing through it.
I liked that second painting so much I tried to find a print of it at the museum store, but, alas, the store doesn’t really have a whole lot in the way of prints. So many of the landscape portraits in the 19th century made some sort of reference to manifest destiny and it was cool to see another form of landscape painting that, in my opinion, represented a lot of the actual landscape that all of those adventurous cross country travelers probably saw. I can imagine the look on their faces when the landscape wasn’t as lush and verdant as the artists depicted. They were all, “Fucking, Thomas Cole. This is bullshit.”
I spent the majority of my time on the Contemporary Art floors. I like contemporary art because there is a such a great degree of variation and I can see a ton of artwork that evokes all manner of reactions from within my little heart and brain.
Installations can make me smile and feel playful and make make eyeballs go wild with contrasting colors.
They can make me think of Han Solo encased in carbonite.
They can make me soar and lift me off my feet.
They can frighten and disgust me, and pretty much ensure a spot in an upcoming nightmare.
But the great part is that I can go into multiple rooms on a couple floors and feel all manner of emotions, from elation to sadness and that’s what everyone intended from the artists to the curators. It’s nice knowing someone else wants to make sure that we stay feeling and thinking.
There’s one area of the museum that was a big let down. The Sculpture Deck. This is what I get to see on tip tip tippy toes.
Bitches need to lower the railing or offer a couple step ladders for shorties like me.