The volume of Impressionist paintings displayed at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts was astounding. Gary and I took our time examining each painting.
VanGogh’s “Irises” commanded attention with bold complementary colors of yellow and purple. Up close the flowers vanished in a myriad of brushstrokes. Paint popped from the canvas with thick swirling applications.
Gary moved in closer. His eyes took on an unfocused quality, and his arm lifted. Fingers opened before a sumptuos, crispy bit of paint.
“Back off,” the guard shouted.
Gary jumped. His eyes widened with shock. He had come so close. Even now his fingers twitched for one little snap. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” he explained as the guard guided him back ten feet.
I can’t help thinking that VanGogh would have been pleased that the texture of his painting resonated so powerfully for a viewer.
For Gary, the painting struck a universal chord, that semi-conscious need to snap or pop, reducing a VanGogh painting to million dollar bubble wrap. Hey, it’s insured, right?
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