Thursday, May 15, 2014

Hermitage

When we opted to skip Moscow and tour St. Petersburg instead the first item on my list was Hermitage. Home to some of the world's most coveted art masterpieces and housed in the Winter Palace, this is one of the world's largest museums.

Wanting to make the most of the visit and avoid the crowds and tour groups, I read trip advisor reviews (love that app) and received intel from Alicia who had toured it two days prior.  Armed with those two sources and her floor map, I logged onto the website to purchase our will call tickets (to by pass the entry lines that taxed me at Pushkin) and check on the closed exhibits. With nearly 1/3 of the exhibits closed for renovation, I literally mapped out our attack plan to tour the highlights, complete on which stairwells to take. Yeah...I am a planner. You should have seen me at Disney.

Anywho. For nearly six hours we toured around the art and the Palace apartments that were open.  Matisse. Picasso. Rembrandt. Renoir. Degas. Monet. Manet. Van Gogh. And my personal favorite, Rubens.  Two things astounded me:

1. That I was actually seeing with my own eyes works of art that I studied long ago; and,
2. How the Russians treat their treasures.

On the second point, let me explain.  Having lived in DC and toured among our national Smithsonian archives, I am spoiled in beholding paintings in perfect lighting, under glare proof glass, behind security trip wires, and in temperature controlled rooms.

The grand rooms of Palace had windows open on a cold, damp day. Matronly ladies stood or sat in each gallery and warned away people who got too close to the art, when seen. Flourescent bulbs that were somewhat fully charged beamed down from the ceilings.  Much of the art did not have glass in front of it. Those that did have glass glared brightly under the poor lighting. And for that matter, there was no discerning reason why some had glass and some did not. It had nothing to do with value. I could have, when the matron wasn't looking, touch the tender brushworks of Renoir but not the one next to it because it was under glass. 

Monet's Bridge over Waterloo was in a dark corner with no glass and the frame visibility separating from the watercolor.

I was elated to see these works but disappointed by their care. I tried to not be distracted by the presentation but in some of the grand halls it hampered my ability to view it all.  Tiny placards denoted the artist and title but because of the glare and height of the room, you had to traverse to the far side to look up at the grand paintings hung just below the crown molding.

Nevertheless when I entered the gallery of Rubens, my heart melted. Compared to the rest of impressionist era artists, his ability to make a silk dress come to life on the canvass transports me every time.  I sat in awe, getting lost in the stories of the paintings' subjects. It was worth the crowds, the craning of neck, the navigating of maps/advice/stairwells to find myself beholding this beauty.

And speaking of beauty, the opulence witnessed the previous day in Pushkin was seen again the Palace Apartments that were open.  Golden peacock clock. Music room with intricately carved piano. Drawing rooms with examples of china used to host ambassadors and dignitaries.  A hall decorated for the sole purpose of marrying tsar and tsarina. And wooden floors and doors that, to me, were works of art unto themselves. 

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