The morning view - before it clouded over - from the rooftop terrace opposite my room: very fine Virginia Creeper.
I then Zoomed in to the memorial service for John Carey - I'd have been there in person if this trip wasn't already very planned by the time the date was announced. It was beautiful, and I trust he'd have appreciated its combination of beauty and straightforwardness. But so poignant not to be there; to see and hear dear friends speaking and reading; and to catch tantalizing little glimpses of others. And it was very English.
Then off for a two mile walk to the Museo de las Bellas Artes (I like getting to know cities through walking, even when it's drizzling). I hadn't realized it had such a stunning collection of Impressionist, Post-Impressionist and some other French nineteenth century art (the Museo has a very good web site, if you want to check it out). Here, to reprise my longstanding habit of posting feet, are some by Bougereau;
and some, stepping out of water and out of the frame, by Franz von Stuck (ok, not French)
- and here's back to full Salon pomposity: Diana sorprendida by Jules Joseph Lefebre.
But the highlight for me was the late nineteenth century Argentinian paintings that were by Italian immigrants, or by those who were born to Italian immigrants and then went to study in Italy, like this crazy La vuelta del malón [how do you translate that? "The return of the raiding party"??] by Ángel della Valle, which was send to the Chicago World's Fair and exhibited in Argentina's manufacturing and products section, amid all the agriculture (they didn't have enough paintings to make a separate show);
- the wild looking Indigenous men have captured not just a white woman but all kinds of religious objects from a church they've presumably sacked. And then this wonderful Ernesto de la Cárcova Sin pan y sin trabajo - "Without bread and without work," which could have come straight from my MA dissertation on social realism and late nineteenth century Italian art ...
I was just seeing some more works from the early twentieth century - evidence of the influence of Boccioni! of Carrà - when That Noise that everyone in LA knows all too well of Watch Duty - that app that alerts us to fires - sounded very faintly, and my Apple Watch buzzed, and I looked and a fire had broken out in Griffith Park about three quarters of a mile behind us - so I called Alice to make sure she was aware, and had gathered the cats up somewhere, and knew where my naturalization certificate is, and and ... well, you try and have a calm conversation of this kind in the middle of early C20th Argentinian art ... Luckily, it was out very quickly, so I went off to La Recolta cemetery to calm down. It was a very depressing cemetery - usually I love them, but this was gloomy (might have been the weather). All the same, Eva Perón quite properly had red carnations on her family tomb,
and there were some other good sightings.
Wall art, on my walk back;
and on a chilly dank autumn evening, may I recommend a bowl of lentil stew?
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