Last night I went to Renoir to Matisse: The Eye of Duncan Phillips at LACMA. DP was an active, dedicated collector with a bunch of money and pretty good taste who, with the help of his wife, a painter with a good eye for talent, amassed a nice group of pictures. (You could also say that Marjorie Phillips, with the help of her husband, a millionaire, amassed…)
I’m not one of those study-every-detail-of-every-work museum-goers. I spend time on the pieces that knock me back and zip past the others. This time, there were three, in order of magnitude: Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party is the most famous, and it’s good; a big canvas, tons of detail, your (my) eye runs diagonally from the upper right to near the lower left of the scene, it’s engaging and pleasant, easy to read, and shows the painter at the height of his powers. It doesn’t tell tell the future, and that’s why it’s at the bottom of my shortlist.
Second is van Gogh’s The Road Menders, less ordered than it’s cousin Entrance to the Public Gardens in Arles from the same period but more emotional; the trees have souls, the folk live; VVG cannot be doubted.
But my favorite came as a total surprise: Gustave Courbet’s The Mediterranean, which I’m at a loss to fully explain. I’ve seen his famous stuff in the Musee d’Orsay, A Burial at Ornans and The Painter’s Studio, both of which are fantastic but, you know, real. So, so, line break, carriage return: The Mediterranean. Rocks, beach, ocean, sky, but a monster, overwhelmingly powerful. I stood in front of it for four minutes and came back to double up. I admit the possibility that it plays on personal longings, preferences, hopes, but god! it could be a scene from the afterlife, and moves. If you’re in LA, if you’re going to be on any of the other Phillips Collection stops, go see it.
I write screenplays, books and push software; I'm a collector and indoorsman. If you have a Masonic scepter or a copy of the Boyd Philadelphia Blue Book (any year), drop me a line.