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Aug 2008 Issue
By Jenna L. Consolo
When I was a young teen, Chagall came to town. That is to say, the Philadelphia Museum of Art hosted an exhibit celebrating the life and masterpieces of Marc Chagall. My mother, who was an Art History major in college, as well as a brilliant and natural artist herself, and my father, who appreciated art, but also had an affinity for all things Jewish, packed the nine of us up in the van and headed across the bridge to Philadelphia.
We were herded through the museum, probably mostly bored, but with a sense that these paintings were important and that it was a privilege to see them in person. At the end of our tour, we were each allowed to choose one postcard from the museum’s gift shop as a souvenir. I chose The Fiddler, a painting that had caught my attention of a curious green-faced violinist playing on the roof of a very small house in a very small village.
Among the bold shapes and vivid colors of Chagall’s work, I think it was recognizable to me, and I think it reminded me of Fiddler on the Roof, a movie that was frequently watched (and sung to) in our artsy and Jewish-loving Mormon household.
I still have my Fiddler postcard, all these years later. It was the first of many art postcards that I would collect, and still do, whenever I visit a museum.
Ever the autodidact, even as a child I perused my mother’s glossy art books from the livingroom bookshelves. I appreciate now that she made them available for our discovery. I especially remember her love of Mary Cassatt, an American-born artist who was known for her paintings of mothers and children. Because I know that they touched my mother in some sacred way, I love her work too, and I cannot see a Cassatt painting without thinking of her.
I have tried to provide the same feeling of respect and admiration for art to my children that my parents demonstrated to me. My shelves are populated with children’s biographies of the Great Artists, as well as instructional books on their methods and the history and expression of Art through the ages. But nothing beats real-life exposure.
One of the best ways to introduce children to art in museums, I’ve found, is to narrow the scope of your visit, rather than plan an exhaustive tour. Teach your children what Impressionism is, for instance, and show several examples from books or from the Internet.
Find out ahead of time what works will be on display in the museum you plan to visit and let your children become familiar with them so that they can have the thrill of recognizing the originals once you get there. With young children, stay in a more manageable section of the museum and ask them to find paintings with apples in them, or dogs, or baby Jesus. Begin to train their eyes to look at details in art, and to begin to see similarities and themes.
Teach elementary-aged children the artists’ names and the titles of a few well-known works that you’ll see on your visit. It makes children feel smart and capable, all building blocks of self-esteem. See if your children can identify other works by the same artist, or works done by other artists of the same country. My children became surprisingly astute at identifying Spanish artists and Dutch artists, and it was thrilling to hear them say, “That looks like a van Gogh!” Let them love some and dislike others, but teach them to express why they feel the way they do.
While large, national museums are impressive, I have become partial to the more intimate museums of art that were once private collections. I was privileged to tour the Frick Collection with a friend in New York during the exclusive Whistler, Women, and Fashion exhibit. More recently, I took my children to the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, California, which houses an impressive variety of artists and styles.
My daughter and I both loved Degas’ bronze sculpture, Little Dancer, Aged Fourteen, but we were also impressed to see van Gogh’s Mulberry Tree and Rembrandt’s Titus as well.
Each of us chose several favorites from the postcards in the gift shop to add to our collections. The postcards are not only fun souvenirs, but have also become a tool to aid in remembering artists and paintings, and each we had the privilege of seeing with our own eyes.
The best thing about art is that one cannot be in the presence of such greatness without having one’s own greatness ignited within. Whatever our individual calling in life, being around art can elevate our spirit and remind us that God works in mysterious ways through those who are open to his inspiration.
Sometimes those ways are in colors and textures on a stretched canvas, or in a block of marble.
Sometimes those ways are in the eyes of the beholder who sees and knows that He is.
