Ah, Los Angeles—my crazy, crazy patchwork of a city. Sometimes beautiful, sometimes ugly, always itself. There’s no single vista that could contain all of it...but I will say, this one’s pretty good. And any local worth his or her gross points could probably tell you where I am right now...
...the Getty Center, the newer half of the world-renowned J. Paul Getty Museum. Completed in 1997 as an expanded showcase for the late oilman’s collection while the Getty Villa underwent renovations—it’s since reopened—the Getty Center is the beneficiary of the world’s wealthiest art endowment and arguably the premier art museum on the West Coast.
All the more reason for me to crash it, right?
Built by Richard Meier over two ridges in the hills of Brentwood, the Getty became an instant LA landmark for its unique architecture and the white travertine outer walls that make it stand out on the local landscape like a pearly crown. Here’s the model of the campus…
…and here’s the reality, from within the courtyard.
Not bad, Meier. Not bad at all.
The Getty is loaded with visitor-friendly facilities, such as this touchscreen directory—useful for finding not only specific works but those visitor-friendly restrooms as well! I know I could just talk to a guard when I need one instead, but I get so tired of them asking if I’m Rob’s seeing-eye rabbit. Um, hello—I’m a patron of the arts, thank you very much.
Or you could just ditch the maps altogether and wander around freely for hours and hours; if you’re the placard-reading type, it’ll take longer still.
This may not be the Art Institute and this definitely isn’t the ’80s, but still, I’m always slightly disappointed when I have a gallery to myself and this doesn’t automatically pipe in over the PA.
There are also the sprawling grounds, with an expansive desert garden, rolling lawns that are cropped so sharply that they’re practically AstroTurf, and a waterfall that ends in a large pool occupied by a hedge maze. Which I’d think would be more of a pain to maintain than either a water feature or a hedge maze separately, but oil money makes anything possible, I guess.
Then there’s the sculpture garden, supplemented by a handful of pieces scattered around the campus. Partial to pop art as I am, I really like Roy Lichtenstein’s Three Brushstrokes here—even if it kind of just makes me want a frozen banana.
Personally, I don’t really understand it when an artist names a piece Untitled; even a ridiculously pretentious title like Symphony in Red, Gold, Four Dimensions, and a Gum Wrapper or whatever seems better than not trying. Take Joel Shapiro’s no-namer here—how hard would it have been to come up with Drunk Asterisk?
Or then you’ve got a case like Fernand Léger’s Walking Flower, where the title is fine but he missed an opportunity to call it Tripping Daisy.
Back inside, in the East Pavilion: You say Salomon de Bray’s David with His Sword, I say Severus Snape’s Awkward Third Year.
Henry Weekes’ Bust of an African Woman? Or Audra McDonald Rolling Her Eyes?
Okay, I guess I can’t quibble with Richard Dadd’s Mercy: David Spareth Saul’s Life here. But, heh, all the image makes me think of is “So which one was the first to say ‘Jehovah’?”
Huh. I don’t see a placard or recognize the artist, but I definitely appreciate a clean, minimalist approach to a kinetic sculpture, especially this one made of polished stainless steel in the shape of a drainage basin…oh.
Moving on to the South Pavilion, then, which houses the 18th-century collection and decorative arts area. Hmm. Nice, high ceilings, good paneling, love the marquetry, chandelier’s okay—a rabbit could really entertain here. How soon can we get it in escrow?
Okay, now here’s a peeve of mine: the depiction of bunnies in human art. This is an 18th-century French silver table centerpiece, and right there in the middle—the head’s facing me—is a “game” rabbit. Why are we always the victims and never the heroes? It’s very annoying and one-sided, but hopefully the Getty has other works that balance out this one.
…aw. Dude.
Well, this piece in the North Pavilion is as good as it gets for us here—Hans Hoffmann’s A Hare in the Forest, where the rabbit just…sits there. Eating. Not being eaten, at least, but hardly a dynamic world-beater either. Bite me, art history.
Time for a little turnabout, then! Another of the Getty’s features is the sketching room, where they provide free paper, pencils, and easels for people to have a go at being artists themselves. When we were here, it was dominated by kids, but it’s open to everyone, including adults—and rabbits!
Hrm. Well, it’s as far as I got by freepaw in the limited time I had before Rob said we should let incoming kids have a turn, but I don’t think I’ll be heading my own gallery show anytime soon. Still, the lady gave me a proper Getty stamp at the bottom, so that’s gotta count for something!
Still, if the true purpose of art is to inspire others in turn, I guess I should dig out my color sticks and start my own rabbit-centric art movement, huh? One fauvist sketch from five years ago does not a revolution make.
And that’s all from the Getty! Rob tried to squeeze in one last shot of that fabulous Meier architecture showcasing the beautiful California summer sky, but I was already heading to the museum store. C’mon, Rob—fancy toys!
