Sunday, July 27, 2014

Hall of the Gods

“Sadly, we only get to go through half of the hall of the gods. Though still a good portion of gods.”

“Hall of the gods?”

“Yes, the hall of the gods.”

The hall of the gods is the great collection of Thai, Indonesian, Indian and Malaysian art that occupies the hall connecting the old museum with the modern wing. This is then picked up in the modern wing by the second hall, with Greek art featuring the Greeks in their various ways, still very pretty and fascinating.

Walking the length of either hall makes me feel powerful and worshipful, but the full effect of walking through one, then the other, is always so mesmerizing and distracting that sometimes I forget what it was that I was at the museum to do in the first place.

The party was on the ground floor, where I indulged in a delightful cheese buffet, a couple of martinis, and the beautiful lounge quintet before asking if they had opened the display. A burly security guard who looked like too much of a stereotype for his own good informed me that yes, the show was open.

“And really, you should go now because it’s huge.”

Huge was an understatement. 

Martini Mondays

When I got my Art Institute magazine in late June I was excited to learn that the next major exhibition at the museum would be a full exhibition of René Magritte's work from his early work through to the later period. The exhibition sounded large, and daunting and beautiful and I wanted in.

I was further excited to see that for this event the museum was having a special opening night exhibition on Monday, called the Martini Monday, where viewers could go in, have a drink downstairs and then walk through the exhibition.

Perfect for me. I could barely wait for Monday to arrive, to go in and see the paintings, drink the martinis, and hang out with art people. The art people, of course, are very cliquish and all come together to do things, so I invited my own friend for the evening, and Faust was happy to come. Of course, this was an event that required an RSVP, which I asked Faust to do.

Of course, by the time Faust got around to it there were no tickets left and he had been waitlisted.

“Just show up; I’ll take care of it.”

Which is what I do. Faust did as instructed and after a short sideline to find some very necessary food we worked our way to the entrance to see some art. After getting through the door I walked to a ticket booth and gave my name and member number.

“You are not on the list.”

“I have a reservation.”

“Give me the number again?”

The pretty young docent checked my number, checked my name, checked for random pseudonyms (why would Saradevil be on the list? Just check for it.) and in the end could not find me on the list.

“Well, I can see the number; you are clearly supposed to be here,” to which she gave me a ticket. I smiled, then waved at Faust.

“When I registered I meant to register for two, but apparently I messed that up and only registered for one. Would it be possible for my friend to get in?”

Faust smiled and tried to look casual. Somehow failed.

“He’ll have to pay full price.”

“That’s fine,” said Faust, settling up the bill, getting his own ticket and heading after me into the depths of the museum. We walked through the halls of the museum toward the lounge.