The Lovelies

I write a lot on here about the loveliness of simple things and how much I enjoy spending time with my friends. And, really, who doesn't? I find though that it's one of those things that I keep realizing over and over again. It's not so much that I forget it, but more that I'm repeatedly struck with the truth of it. This week was a slog. It's not that it was bad really, it was just...gross. I felt off all week. I've been a bit under the weather, it's been raining, I've been feeling a little buried by my ever-growing reading list...in short, it was one of those weeks where everything kind of piles up and you wind up in a bad mood even though everything is actually fine. Despite all of that, there have been sets of hours that have shaped themselves up rather nicely. A couple of my closest friends out here just left. We took a few hours break from work to bake and check out the new crepe restaurant in town. The baking was fun, although poorly planned, and the restaurant was lovely, although they are still trying to find their stride. And the company was, of course, delightful. And we parted with plans for breakfast at the crepe place (yes, this might become somewhere we spend a lot of time and money), coffee shop work, and eating the fruits of our baking adventure. All in all, it was pretty much the perfect antidote to the weird mood I've been in.

Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, and a Love of Art

I totally intended to post this last night, but for some reason I was exceptionally tired and was up late chatting with a friend so I decided to just crash and post it today. I spent a delightful afternoon yesterday wandering around the art gallery with my dear friend. One of the exhibts they have right now is a collection of Degas's paintings and sculptures. Both of us are huge fans of Degas so it was pretty fantastic. His work is simply incredible, particularly his dancers. There is just a quality about his work that draws the viewer in. When I was at the exhibit a couple months ago with my class someone commented that his sculptures make you want to try and imitate their poses, and that is totally true. There is a grace and power to the way that his figures are positioned that is absolutely incredible. Even though they are completely still you get a sense of movement. The attention to detail is exquisite, and yet the faces of his figures are almost entirely non-descript, even blurred to the point of non-identity. Something about this makes them all the more powerful though. His paintings of dancers capture the simplest, fleeting, intimate moments: adjusting a strap on a dress, or hushed, excited whispers backstage. So lovely. I honestly think we could have stayed in that room for the whole afternoon just talking about his works.

I actually have a great love for the Impressionists and Post-Impressionists. That was probably my favorite part of art history this year. I wish I could take an entire class on them, but sadly there isn't one available at King's and commuting isn't really an option for me. Anyway. When I took these pictures a couple of weeks ago something about the colors and lines reminded me a bit of impressionistic paintings. Even though the tulip was dying, there was something exceptionally beautiful about it. Plus it makes for a bit of a different flower picture from what I normally take.