In front of me is a painting of vivid red sun, its colors splayed across sky and sea in a tremendous display. Rays of sunlight paint all that it would touch to create texture, beauty. And here, opposite, is a painting depicting the other side of nature. The dark, threatening skies, full grey clouds that hang low and skim the surface of the choppy seas. The seas are themselves an uneasy tangle of white-crested waves closing in on the shore. Those waters a deep, blue-green color that is at once peaceful and fear-inspiring. All of these elements are overlaid against a background of lighter sandy and rocky shore, lined with towering sandstone cliffs.
Yet from other wings of the gallery, time calls. The frescoes of ancient Greece and Rome have lasted throughout the ages to come to us today, to tell the story of a civilization long since gone. The lone soldier, spear in hand standing guard over the museum rotunda. Encased by a panel of glass in an alcove, unable to spring to action should the need arise, but keeping vigil all the same.
A few steps further and I reach the open courtyard. A high ceiling and tall glass walls showcase a cafeteria of white. Vivaldi plays as visitors crane their necks upward to take in the sight of a green towering plant- made of glass. This spiky column, courtesy of Chihuly, is tall enough that cables must provide support at the top. Ironic that a glass imitation of nature should be placed on a pedestal and admired when the real, more intricate plants struggle to survive just beyond the glass boundaries. From my perch on a small black bench by the window I can see plants that are walled in by bricks on three sides and glass on the other. These walls tower and block out sunlight so vital for their survival. Why not admire the intricacies of a plant that, without man-made instructions, will grow from a tiny seed that does not even begin to point at its potential for grandeur? But this is the Museum of Fine Arts, where the works that are praised are those that have been designed by man and created through the instructions of man. So I sit here and ponder these things until it is time to leave. And I wonder how many other beautiful things I miss in life all because I do not pay attention.
A few steps further and I reach the open courtyard. A high ceiling and tall glass walls showcase a cafeteria of white. Vivaldi plays as visitors crane their necks upward to take in the sight of a green towering plant- made of glass. This spiky column, courtesy of Chihuly, is tall enough that cables must provide support at the top. Ironic that a glass imitation of nature should be placed on a pedestal and admired when the real, more intricate plants struggle to survive just beyond the glass boundaries. From my perch on a small black bench by the window I can see plants that are walled in by bricks on three sides and glass on the other. These walls tower and block out sunlight so vital for their survival. Why not admire the intricacies of a plant that, without man-made instructions, will grow from a tiny seed that does not even begin to point at its potential for grandeur? But this is the Museum of Fine Arts, where the works that are praised are those that have been designed by man and created through the instructions of man. So I sit here and ponder these things until it is time to leave. And I wonder how many other beautiful things I miss in life all because I do not pay attention.
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