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    Must experience museums as they should be: spectacularly empty

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    The other morning, there was a chat between Vincent van Gogh and me at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I asked her about the straw hat and the blue cravat: Was she going for an urban bohemian look, or was it all going to come as an outsider? We explained her mental state clearly. He Feeling a little wound – I heard rumors about some strange behavior – but his eyes looked bright and untouched. Certainly we knew mostly about his art. Where does his work fit into modern painting of his era? Was there a next step in his mind towards Amartan in retrospect?

    I confess that it had been a long time since 1887, when I tried to share it in depth with Van Gogh’s “Self-Portrait with a Straw Hat”, one of Van’s treasures. For years, every time I went to repay it – him – my honors, the crowd of fans made it impossible to pass adequately, for a long time, for us to gain any real understanding. But over the past few months, Kovid’s restrictions have severely limited attendance, with the world’s most famous museums giving their art a new opportunity to speak to us.

    This is the moment to reestablish the grip of our great art collection: even if their special exhibitions begin to be replenished, it will be some time before their permanent collection gets crowded. As museums everywhere contemplate the future of their Kovid, their Kovid-troubled present takes us to a luxurious, more art-friendly past.

    On my first visit to the great museums of New York nearly four decades ago, you could see any work without too much distraction or hindrance. My parents, the most die-hard of modernists, raised their children single-handedly, so I needed all the peace I could get with people, such as Van Gogh’s self- Portraits or portraits of celebrating people. Hall can also be counted as art.

    My teenager did not stick to the mate himself. At the Museum of Modern Art, I remember being thrilled by its modernist landmarks: Picasso’s shocking “Demoelesiales deVignon,” Matisse’s magical “piano lesson,” Pollock’s frantic “One: No. 31.” On a recent Thursday afternoon once again, in an almost empty museum, I felt like we were barely separated. While there have been many trips over the past decade, I felt as if I am trying to hang out with high-school friends, who have grown so large that they can hardly be seen through their admissions.

    The other afternoon at MoMA, it felt almost bizarre to put myself in front of the “demoisieles” for as long as I wanted, without having to worry about stopping all the people behind me. (There were none.) I got to do. Long term It really makes a painting come alive to see – to move beyond the presuppositions and cliches that we all come up with and, in fact, see with fresh eyes what the picture might be about. Accepting the “Demoiles” of 1907, which was credited with pushing Picasso towards his Cubist revolution, I had the time to ask myself why he made some women’s faces look like African masks in the last minute. This move gives us so much trouble today, as we get to grips with the West’s brutal history of colonialism and racism – and, as I realized the other afternoon, Picasso didn’t have to go there. The painting would have looked fine without those Africans; Cubism could have happened without them as well.

    Even on Thursdays, ideally under uncontrolled circumstances, it was not easy for me to clean my head to take in “Demoiles”, so imagine all the young people coming to Moma for the first time amid the adventures of the ex-Kovid. Do it What a chance that he had to think about anything, as he left his way in the presence of this “great art”.

    For some time now, I’ve been talking about art objects as “machines for thinking”: our job as viewers is to switch them, and it’s almost impossible to do that when you’re getting A crowd gets a glimpse through the gap.

    All of this is doubly important with work that is so new to you that you don’t even have the cliché to fall back on. This is a recent morning situation, when I made my first visit to the old Frick Collection in my new digs in the modernist Breuer building on Madison Avenue. (Frick’s old masters are due to live there for a few years as the collection’s Beaux-Arts mans have been remade.)

    Like the Met and MoMA, Frick has fallen prey to its success in recent decades. As tourism in New York exploded, Old Frick’s home locations almost always seemed to be filled to full capacity, making it almost impossible to start any kind of refreshing conversation with its illustrious Vermeers and Titians. The crowd may find it difficult to focus on less well-known works, which were tucked away into distant corners that you sniffed at. As each critic has said, Breaker has given Frick’s masterpieces new room to breathe; Its “lesser” items now have a chance to get your attention.

    Due to Kovid restrictions, I was almost alone when I came upon the Bronze of the Renaissance that I was barely known in their old house. Hercules, a small bronze by the sculptor known as Antique, all had shiny surfaces; The hair was a delicious pile of gilt curls. On the same subject, a nearby bronze by Giovanfrancesco Rustici, had a rough surface that looked almost blossomed. As I looked and thought, an explanation came to mind: both were trying to encapsulate images of bronze by their artistic ancestors in ancient Greece and Rome. Antico was imagining how glorious those bronze would have looked when new; Rustiki created his new works as if they were buried for 1,500 years.

    I would not say that I am thankful to Kovid for anything; Can’t make some miracle hours with art for the ones we have faced. But as I think we have learned from our tests – how to wash your hands; How to treasure the absentees – I wonder if our most popular museums will take their Kovid lessons to heart.

    Will they try to return the 2019 appearances and ticket receipts, or will they think even more backwards in time, with art, people, who once managed to walk peacefully? If going back to that situation means that we should reserve a limited supply of timed tickets to visitors, as we do under Kovid – if that means museums should reconsider decades of growth in buildings, budgets and programming. Or have to reverse – thank you for this, the art will be done by itself. They were tired of constant socialization; They are dying for some deep, one-on-one conversations.

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