My mom’s birthday was Saturday, and on Sunday morning we met at (where else?) the art museum to have a fancy, champagne filled brunch (there were macarons! and eggs benedict! and a cheese board! and plenty of gossip!) and then wander our favorite galleries (European art, 1850-1900). In her words, in order of artist importance, “There’s Renoir, then Monet, and then blahbideeblahbideeblah.” I got her to relent a bit (Cassatt and Degas and Cezanne and Van Gogh!) when pressed, but she wasn’t budging on anything post-1920 which explains a lot about me. We happened to wander into the contemporary American art wing only to scramble for an exit like we’d been lit on fire upon discovering Duchamp’s toilet statue (I don’t even know, you guys), escaping back to the safety of the Impressionists.
Art, top to bottom: ‘Garden of Armida’ Wallpaper, Édouard Muller; ‘Under the Pines, Evening’, Claude Monet (and close-up); ‘The Large Washerwoman,’ Pierre-Auguste Renoir; ‘Pythian Sibyl’ , Marcello; ‘The Moorish Chief’, Eduard Charlemont; ‘Still Life with Flowers and Fruit’, Pierre-Auguste Renoir (close-up).