An old memory

This painting, "The Soothsayer's Recompense" (year 1913), by Giorgio de Chirico, is something of a favorite of mine:

I've had a postcard of this painting hanging either in my bedroom or at the office, since my college days.  The original painting hangs at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, to which I practically lived next door while attending the Art Institute of Philadelphia.  So I've seen the original painting quite a number of times.


One of my favorite memories of my time at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, during my school years, was sitting along the Schuylkill River outside the Museum's west entrance  (near the old Waterworks).  I was drawing in a sketchbook, with the assistance of four young children who had taken an interest in what I was doing and had joined me.  Their mother, sitting not far away, had nothing but frowns for me, as she watched us.  But she didn't say anything, she just seemed unhappy about her kids enjoying an art session with me.  I don't know why she was irritated, I suspect that she didn't get out much!  Anyway, the kids had a fabulous time drawing in my sketchbook.  I learned their names, which I remembered for a number of years, but have since forgotten.  I wonder if today maybe they still enjoy visiting the museum, and perhaps even remember the happy afternoon that they spent with me.  Perhaps their memories of the event recall me as some great and well known artist, such as Salvador Dali.  :)  Well, I like to imagine!  

Who left the door open?

Pierre Roy's painting "A Naturalist's Study", from the year 1928, is a Surrealist work that I've appreciated for a while:

Pierre Roy was introduced to the Surrealist group by Giorgio de Chirico (whom of course had also been known to paint a few trains).  In the book, "Surrealist Painting" by Simon Wilson (Phaidon Press Limited), the son of Pierre Roy relates his father's emotional state at the time that he painted this work, saying that he "was prey to a deep nervous and above all emotional depression" and that the artist had just recovered from the passing of his wife.  I wonder if the document pinned to the wall is some account of the artist's financial difficulties at the time, or perhaps it's a confession from his subconscious (Pierre's son had indicated that his father felt somehow to blame for his wife's death). Such mental disturbances were thus the reason for the dysfunction seen in the painting, Pierre's son further elaborated, in that the snake is pinned to the floor, the hub of the wheel has no hole in it, the wind outside blows in different directions, and "the string of eggs gives no suggestion of life" (I suppose that eggs strung together have likely been emptied of their contents).  


Pierre Roy employs the common conceit of Surrealism in this painting, that of making a sinister statement beneath an odd jumble of objects. The playful contrasting colors and bright sunlight are simply the disguise of death.  In this regard, the foretelling of doom, Roy's painting has much in common with the unsettling urban landscapes of de Chirico.  The door may be open in "A Naturalist's Study", but there's nothing inviting here!

Come back here with my Hula Hoop

Here is one of my most favorite of paintings, the famous "The Mystery and Melancholy of a Street", painted by Giorgio de Chirico in the year 1914.  (Did people exist back then)?  

Many questions come to mind when viewing this disturbing work. Such as, what happened to the perspective?  What lies within the darkened archways of the buildings?  Who is the mysterious man approaching our young heroine?  Is it someone that she met on Facebook?  Should we call the police?  None of these questions matter as much as the central debate:  Where is she going with that stolen Hula Hoop?  (You don't think she'd be so cavalier with one of her own toys, do you?  Well, you can tell that I don't have kids).  


I know, it's not really a Hula Hoop, as with just minimal research, I find that what she is doing is called "hoop trundling" (good grief). I've never witnessed anyone partaking of this sport, but then, it's not like I ever go outside either.  And with obvious good reason. De Chirico served the Surrealists well in the inspiration department, with his memorable portrayals of bleak city vistas and mental anguish compounded by loneliness and the inevitable parting of friends.  I highly recommend checking out more of his works,  if you're not too familiar with him.  Then you too will understand that going outdoors is wholly overrated.