Van Gogh in Philly: A Master Struts His Stuff...

When I heard my beloved Vincent Van Gogh was going to have 46 pieces from around the world at the Philadelphia Museum, I knew I just had to go to Philly and pay homage to one of the great visual arts innovators of our time. For this certified vanGoghphile, anything less would be unconscion-able. Besides, given what van Gogh has meant to me for so many years, what credible excuse would I have been able to fabricate for having missed such an event?

Visitors traversing the splendid corridor
just off the Lobby of  the Philadelphia

Museum, with visions of the magical,  
timeless Vincent dancing in their hearts.

So off I went by C&J Trailways to Logan Airport, early on the morning of February 21st. From there I caught an economy-class flight out of Boston, with Delta as my carrier. Keeping my costs down meant accepting without complaint the reality of connecting flights at Kennedy International on the way down and at Detroit Metro on the way home. And booking my hotel -- the beautifully re-decorated Wyndham Gardens -- as part of a fly-and-stay package through Orbitz kept the final figure at a respectable $307.00.


This will not be a work-by-work review of the exhibit. I simply wanted to take a moment to share with you my reaction to the exhibit -- how it struck me and what my pilgrimage meant to me.


Some critics couldn't resist panning the exhibit. Critics are humans, too -- I've been one -- and like everyone else, they're subject to predictable prejudices and dark moments. That's not going to change, so one mustn't lose sleep over it.


One prevalent criticism, laced through various newspapers across the country, was that the curators allowed works of lesser sophistication to seep into the exhibit. To me, this is silly and for the most part groundless. 


Seeing a handful of weaker works along with the more succulent fruits of an artist's labors ought to be seen as more a virtue than a vice, at least for those of us who care deeply for an artist of van Gogh's undeniable gifts. It is a reminder to all of us that no human being can possibly be expected to work at a heavenly pace of creativity 100% of the time. And when one loves the works of a particular artist, one can be expected to be intensely interested in -- and thankful for -- whatever works will increase our understanding of that artist's output and its contribution to the history of art.

Van Gogh Up Close,
Philadelphia Museum

So this exhibit, which we were quite understandably not allowed to photograph, was 95% spectacular and 5% perhaps a little shakey. But who can honestly say that those few weaker works -- if indeed they really were "weak" -- somehow sullied the reputation of either the artist or the Philadelphia Museum?


I've nothing but the highest praise for the curators who put this exhibit together. And the Philadelphia Museum -- a fine museum with marvelous masterworks in its collection, presented in a very beautiful setting -- deserves equal praise for hosting an exhibit of such high caliber, an exhibit that allowed people across the country to see 46 extraordinary van Gogh works assembled under one roof and, given the remarkable efficiency of Philly's public transporttion system, really quite easy to get to. 


Need I really say it? Not all of us can get to Amersterdam, especially in tough economic times, so this was a fine opportunity to rub shoulders with an indisputable master, then come away made better and wiser for the encounter.


My one gripe about my tour of Vincent van Gogh Up Close was in no way exclusive to the Philadelphia Museum. On the contrary, it has become a silent scourge of sorts, all across this country and far beyond -- an unavoidable consequence of touring any blockbuster exhibit. I'm talking about the maddening problem of clusters of visitors with headphones, congregating like grazing, self-absorbed cattle, chewing their auditory cuds in front of work after work, oblivious to the fact that they're in the way of others who are just as eager to get near those works but want to worship at the altar without the help of canned commentary.

Downtown Philly, seen from the grand staircase of the
Philadelphia Museum of Art -- Photo by Ross, February, 2012

I strongly suggest that every museum schedule an hour or two of headphone-free viewing every day for those of us who see it as an intrusion on a more meditative way of experiencing art. That way, we can schedule ourselves for an experience more to our liking, without compromising the rights and tastes of those who can't figure out how to enjoy an art exhibit without having someone else tell them what they're seeing.


I'd also like to suggest to those legions of headphone-dependent art lovers that before attending their next blockbuster exhibit, they try reading in some depth about the artist they want so badly to see. It might come as a shock to them that they're capable of viewing an exhibit without that auditory crutch that represents only one particular point of view and implies, somehow, that the viewer couldn't possibly be capable of interpreting the exhibit as he or she sees fit.


Try it sometime. A blockbuster tour sans headphones can be a liberating experience and a reminder that thinking for oneself -- a lost art in these days of easy conformity -- can be a blessed event that leads to greater understanding of the world around us, including the galleries we so revere. I've a hunch our beloved Vincent would appreciate the courtesy, too.


                                                                                                 -- Ross Bachelder
                                                                                                    Berwick, Maine
                                                                                                     March 8, 2012