Gobsmacked at the Gallery

I remember the first time I was ever gobsmacked by art. Do you?

My WHOA! moment was back in the early 80s at Amherst College’s Mead Art Museum. I was wandering one of the galleries clockwise and came first, unmoved, to Thomas Cole’s painting The Present showing a castle in ruins, abandoned and backlit by a sunrise or sunset.  But it was his second painting, The Past, that stopped me in my tracks. It depicted the same castle and landscape, only at some mythical point in the past, broad daylight, with throngs of people and a jousting tournament in play.

I remember the paired paintings — and my reaction to them — vividly, to this day.

I love when art MOVES us like that. Makes us stop, gasp, internalize it. Carry it with us, decades later. For me, it’s Rodin’s Crouching Woman at the Hirschhorn Sculpture Garden in D.C., Canova’s Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss at the Louvre, Shepard Fairey’s Arab Woman at the ICA in Boston, Van Gogh’s Starry Night at Yale.

With that same sense of a visceral experience, I spent several hours at the Yale Art Gallery again this weekend. Maybe it was the fact that it was my first time in a large museum since COVID, or that I spent the day with a friend who was equally enthralled and inspired by the energy of the space and the vast amount of famous and fantastic art — but I left full up with awe and appreciation, and a deep gnawing urge to create something WHOA myself!

Here are some sights from the Gallery…