What Price Beauty or Fame?


Jacob Lawrence_Migration Series

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/price/

Price

What Price Beauty or Fame?

As many of you may know I work as a Security Officer in a museum so I am Blessed to be surrounded by Beautiful Works of Art all day long.  No matter which wing or section of the museum I am posted I always find artworks with limitless intrinsic value.

One of the many repetitive questions I get from museum visitors is “What is the most expensive painting/artwork in the museum?”  At first I was puzzled that one could be in a gallery full of Rembrandts, Vermeers, Caravaggio’s, John Singer Sargent, Manet, Monet, Degas or any of many gifted artists and seek only to know a price tag!  Well since I’ve now been working at the museum for eight years I’m used to the question and no longer offended. Still a bit puzzled but I suppose for some people it is human nature to want to know the cost.  I explain to the visitors that most of the artworks are donated to the museum, there are some purchases but very few.

I am not an artist. At least not a visual artist in that respect. Many of my fellow guards are artists. I highly respect them and artists throughout all ages and eras.  I admit to being a late blooming photographer and a frenetic writer!  I often introduce myself as a Writer masquerading as a museum security guard!!

 

Being possessed of a sensitive nature I absorb what’s around me. My favorite art in the museum are paintings. I feel paintings speak to me. They tell me a story.  Even landscapes and still lifes have some tale to impart to the viewer. Since my job can be monotonous and boring in between patron queries I allow the paintings to tell me their stories. Also as the Tour Guides and Docents introduce various genres of art and artists to the visiting public I’m there soaking up their wisdom like a sponge. Many times when I get home I’ll listen to art classes and studies which are readily available on YouTube.  When I can I may purchase a book or catalog on a specific exhibit or artist who has taken my fancy.

Many of these artists were not appreciated, famous or in some cases able to make a decent living via their art. Most only gained fame long after their deaths. Some who became famous during their lifetimes did not necessarily have happy lives.

One of the best things about working for a museum in New York is that my ID card enables me to get into any New York City museum for FREE!!  So all those trips to various museums you have read about cost me nothing except for the food and any item I purchase from the gift shops.

 

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Island of the Damned -- Bocklin

A Building at Rest ~ Goth Holiday at the Museum


A Building at Rest

The museum Thanksgiving Day 2012
the museum is populated by a wonderful yet mysterious quiet & peace undisturbed by the frenetic masses. Silences punctuated only by flowing water, the endless hum and shifting of building machinery.

Even normal noises can be unsettling. Especially those associated with people. The building has become a living breathing organism Uttering creaks moans sighs groans from nearly 150 years of footfalls, voices, radios, songs, cantatas, the chiming of clocks, exclamations of awe & wonder. Whispers from an Archaic Victorian century long past to digital diversity.

Oh what secrets lie transfixed within these silent walls yearning for release.  The Hunger has been unleashed upon the populace.

The immortality of brick, mortar & steel record the march of ethnicities & nations who roam free these hallowed halls.

Sometimes the sudden interruption of footfalls becomes ominous, invading the sanctity of the Holy Sanctuary. Even the sound of my own steps is somewhat menacing. What spirits accompany me on perambulations among the saints and sinners?

The feeble burbling of the fountain stream’s half-hearted attempts to empty its essence, struggling to pollinate magnificent coins.

The day is at end, the light has faded. Now the night crew enters to continue the evening melody.

Hotel California
Hotel California

Reflections Goth Holiday 2013

Cadaver Mind A.D.D.

Heaving sighs and moans.  Creaks, chrupping of brick, mortar, steel and glass pane windows. Blood oozes and drips from open wounds in Laymen’s red brick walls. Elevator doors open and a thousand wailing, howling, grieving souls swoop through the air and into the Medieval Court crying for revenge. Flight of the Valkyries. The Martyrs avenge their unjust and untimely deaths. Swirling and whirling like profane dervishes from netherworld’s portal of the undead.

Angels Falling
Angels Falling

Hail Mary Echoes from thousands of Knights, monks, Nuns, bishops, and church saints racing through Byzantium corridors. Spirits of Reliquaries issue forth warnings and admonishments to modern day savages. Reliquary Fingers of Blessing Inflict Pain Yanking Opening Death’s Door breaking off bits and pieces of flesh, bone, teeth and hair for deposit into ossuary banks.

Slats opening and closing mindfully as though giving some secret Morse Code. Dioramas of Death act out murderous suicidal dramas. Eagle slays Dragon plucking out blinded eyes from empty orbs.

Medieval castle built long ago by invaders long forgotten. A grand foyer flanked by two long hallways of Byzantine art leading into Medieval Sculpture Hall filled with statues of Madonnas, Saints, Mystics, Relics, and tombs from Egypt, Europe, Greece, Cyprus and South America. Kali goddess of the sarcophagus raises her many arms in Victory. Subterranean pipes hissing steam clanking unrest.

Island of the Damned -- Bocklin
Island of the Damned by Bocklin

Secret panels opening up to Mausoleum subterranean chambers containing overturned ossuaries, bones bleached white scattered throughout the tombs.

Abruptly Angels on the Christmas tree come to life and like ravenous vampire bats attack unsuspecting visitors. Reanimated Reliquary Arms reach out to throttle throats of fleeing patrons. Fang toothed Egyptian mummies arise and break through display cases to satiate their ancient eon hunger upon frenzied victims. Their desert saliva spreading infection causing festering vile pus filled carbuncles to captive prey.

Emptiness and Futility of Life
Life’s ignoble Ending

Desire run rampant as sacrilegious effigies coupled and reached radiant necrophilia orgasm stone bodies now made supple. Mystics and Monks glowered lecherously all the while reciting Gregorian chants, dirges and cries for absolution filling the room with the intensity of their mating.

Gargoyles descended from illicit trysts with human females and warlock man beasts gave into the licentious behaviors’ anointing themselves and fleeing clienteles with seminal fluid oily slick.

Orgasm became an exceptional obsession.

Viscous gleaming blood, shimmering with glided preternatural flakes of light. Black Iris her breasts like soft fragrant pillows.