Art Exhibition

For one hour a few weekends ago, I had the privilege to spend in the company of the masters. Although the conversation was multidimensional, it all took place in silence. The silence made way for spaces of interpretation. I could not talk back, my words were too few and far to inappropriate. But I tried to bow in respect, and for a moment the international artists graced the African soil, with their presence.

I have been to the Louvre, the Tate. I have walked through corridors overfilled with art. The pieces almost loosing voice as they struggle for attention among each other. Only a few pieces, like the Mona Lisa, has the advantage to own its own wall and exhibition hall.

The exhition I went to over the weekend was small. The Standard Bank Art gallery, filled with a selection of pieces, through the ages, with the human figure as common thread. There was one Picasso, a Renoir, a Francis Bacon, a few Manet’s. One hour is more than enough to get through all the pieces. Disappointing, you might think. But to the contrary, it exceeded my expectations.

To see the work of a master within a radius of 20km from your own home, under the African sun has a certain enigma attached to it. These paintings travelled thousands of miles to meet me at this point in time. And for a small window in time, I have the opportunity to bathe in these moments of beauty.

A month from now, the selection of paintings will be packed-up, crated and shipped to the next destination.

I stood infront of Renoir’s girl with a blue ribbon. I could almost touch distinguish each individual brush stroke. I was amased at his mixing of colours. Renoir had rheumatoid arthritis. He had to tie the paint brush to his hands, because he could not hold the brush and still his brush work far exceeds the skill of some of us without hand deformities.

Only coming face-to-face with such a painting, can you come to appreciate the its true value.
That is the magic of art. So much more when it has come so far to meet you.