The Met

I have been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art before, and I have seen many fine paintings and sculptures and drawings and architectural examples there, but I had never seen any works of abstract expressionism up close, let alone the Murial Newman abstract expressionism collection (I looked it up). It included works of the most famous artists of the genre, like Pollock, Rothko, and Louis. They were far more interesting to see when you're only inches away and they're right in your face, as opposed to seeing a picture of Jackson Pollock walking around on canvas or a piece on television or in a movie or on the internet. I'll be honest and say that I have a hard time being led around an art exhibit, so I wasn't all that excited about having a guide. So while wandering, the first major piece that caught my eye was an untitled work of Mark Rothko, a panel of a white rectangle positioned above a larger red rectangle. At the time, it was the only Rothko work that I was familiar with -- although I couldn't tell you where I saw it before. Frankly I was surprised to see it; I suppose, for whatever reason, I always think that a museum isn't going to contain an artist's better known works, in favor of more obscure or lesser-known pieces created in his or her "true genius" period. I stood before the Rothko and I wanted to reach out and brush my hand across it, but I looked to my right just in time to see a museum employee approaching and I thought better of it. I moved on to the Pollock work in the collection. It was a very large piece and filled most of the wall on which it hung. I noticed that it was intricately layered, an idea that I guess I hadn't ever thought of. Of course he didn't do that all at once, you idiot! It just made sense. Behind the wall with the Pollock stood a metal sculpture -- the original drawing of which was hung in the front of the room -- called "Firebird" that was very striking, and even a little disturbing. On the wall nearby was a puffy calendar of August that looked like something that you might be able to find on the street, if you were on a particularly excellent street. And finally, on the wall across from the calendar hung a huge, predominantly bare canvas, the corners streaked with smooth, solid-color magna paints. The work was by Morris Louis, and a little extra research showed me that a lot of his paintings looked like that, except with different colors, sometimes. I thought this was a very effective exhibit, and I was excited to get a look at some works that I probably wouldn't get a chance to see in person again.