Weekend Reflections upon Oily surfaces

This last weekend I ventured out from my thought cathedral in search of inspiration, the kind found in the quiet wings of art museums. First let me say that it was enjoyable, in spite of there being no baroque works hung from the walls. It was my first visit to the Indianapolis Museum of Art since before the completion of the new entrance: an extravagant clear layered cake. It took me nearly four hours to tour (that includes skipping all the entire second floor) and by the end I had a limp that would make House jealous (seriously, my knee just can't take the abuse it used to). On the first floor is European art from renaissance to impressionism, dutch impressionist, romanticism and realism. There was also American art, placed towards the end and a selection of Hoosier artists including a T.C. Steele piece that I have always enjoyed but can never remember the name of. Back in the European section there was a sad face that drooped near the eyes, as if the tears weighed upon it immensely (I imagine this is what I'll look like if I ever cry again). The third floor contained the new European Design exhibit that was quite a bit smaller than I had anticipated, but the modern art on the same floor more than made up for the disappointment (I am not so fond of design). It was a lovely way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and I shall see to it that my "should replenish" becomes a "does replenish" more frequently (I do think they miss me something fierce, and some even tried to talk to me, but I digress...).