Liebe Ist Kunst Verloren

Episode Two Hundred Sixteen: Liebe Ist Kunst Verloren.
In which we sepia.


  1. Museum Hours, 2012. The text here is from the beginning of the film, the stream of consciousness narration of a guard in Vienna's Kunsthistorisches art museum. The film interlaces the story of the guard - an observer - with a visitor who has come from Montreal to Vienna to visit a relative who has fallen ill and is in a coma. Throughout this small, tragic story, the film turns to the art in the museum, which features an exceptional collection of Pieter Bruegel the Elder. Breugel's genre paintings cataloging peasant life are lingered upon, and we draw the parallel between the struggles of the main characters, and the struggles of the unique medieval characters immortalized on the canvas.

    Taken out of context (and submitted out of order), the narration, here, seemed relevant to my own life. The 'some who worked here so long' image not from the film, but an historical photograph of office work (early 20th c.).

    The choice of focus, pulling in on the ornate frame of this Renaissance painting of Christ bearing the cross. To be honest, I was simply taken with the luxury of the frame, or how it looked in the film, and wanted to reproduce the patterns. Looking now, though, I realize there's two other things going on: one is the focus on the frame (how do we frame the story, how ornate is the framing?), and the other is the movement toward the corner, and the dark spot in the corner, and how safe it feels to me to be hiding there. So, I think that's part of it, too - I'm sneaking away, out of the focus of the action.

    I was surprised at how much I felt the texture of the painting translated. Quite happy with it.

  2. Reading this again, and realizing that the 'hiding in the safe corner' in this case is most likely a Renaissance painting of the procession to Calvary. So, that's something one might want to hide from, I guess. If one were spineless.

    Reading left to right: It was mostly good, juxtaposed against the start of the Procession (ironic disparity), co-workers losing their minds against an image of office dolor, share of loud forcing retreat, share of quiet in hiding.

    Which is actually quite apt when considering my own life choices. Though the loud always does seem to pursue.



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