The Art Critic
An excerpt…
“If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts.” Adam Duritz, Counting Crows
Circling like sharks through the halogen lit labyrinth of the museum, varied stripes of art lovers, curiosity seekers, tourists and bored schoolchildren surround the Guggenheim’s latest international coup. Colors and shapes swirl under the hot lights; wide, tall, thin and short gather, nod, disperse; gather, nod, disperse.
Celeste freezes. Unlike the others, she does not nod, disperse, but stands quite still in front of a large canvas searching the central figure’s vengeful face, tracking the power in Judith’s hand as she slices Holoferne’s neck with a heavy sword. Dark blood drips in thick rivulets.
Celeste hears someone calling her name, shaking her out of her reverie.
Anthony, from the office: “Have you ever seen these?” he asks, nodding, standing back from the crush.
No, she hadn’t. She turns back to the paintings, stunned by the intensity. Each white wall is fraught; “Corsica and the Satyr,” “Susannah and the Elders,” “Judith and her Maidservant,” overwhelming and thrilling at once.
Celeste has the sense that each canvas is alive, screaming out to be more than a painting. As if painting was not enough; as if Artemisia didn’t intend each of her works to be a revelation, an epiphany, a mystery revealed. Rich colors illuminated by candlelight capture the very weight of death in all of its finality and beauty. Vermillion, ruby, and a deep gold shine as brilliantly as if they had been applied yesterday. In her mind, she knows it is technique perfected – the power of contrasts, the dramatic chiaroscuro – but the knowledge doesn’t lessen the paintings’ effect.
Standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by the violent images, Celeste is caught by conflicting impulses; it’s like happening upon a gory vehicular tangle; afraid of what she’ll see, she looks away, but the pull is strong and against her better judgment, she quickly glances a bloodied limb, an inert body. Celeste moves slowly, losing Anthony completely now, studying the paintings in a dream-like state.
