The Scream and an Interview

I was walking along the road with two friends – the sun was setting – suddenly the sky turned blood red – I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence – there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city – my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety – and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.

I went to the Museum of Modern Art this weekend. It was the first time I got out of Brooklyn since Hurricane Sandy. Speaking of there are still a lot of people who need your help. The Brooklyn Public Library has some great info on their website about who needs what. Go here. So it was nice to be back in Manhattan and always nice to go to the MoMA. We went specifically to see the Scream which is visiting the MoMA until April 2013. There are four screams, the rest are all in Oslo and since the likelihood of me getting to Norway anytime soon is slim, this was a great second. That’s one of my favorite things about living in New York City. Often, things come to you.

The MoMA set up a fantastic display, the Scream front and center and his other work covering the walls of one of the gallery rooms. Including this, entitled Angst:

and this one, entitled The Sick Child of his sister as she lay dying of tuberculosis:

I’m going to preface much of what I say here with the following – I’m not an Art Historian but I have a deep love of visual art. That said, as I stood gazing at the Scream, the way the head seems like it will float away if the hands let go, the symmetry of the swirling landscape matching the sway of the body – which is all in contrast to the straight hard lines that create the bridge behind him, I was most struck by the eyes. They look just past the viewers gaze, just over your shoulder as if whatever horror he sees is just behind you. It’s a striking painting and I feel fortunate to have seen it. Again, a benefit of living in NYC.

Now that said, I couldn’t help but notice that so many other patrons at the museum that day just snapped a picture of it, and then as if the real thing weren’t right in front of them in all it’s pastel technicolor glory, they instead looked at it on their phone.

Is that the point we have reached? That the digital version is just a good as the real thing?

In other news, I have an interview over at My Pathway to Books with the lovely Tess where I talk about inspiration:

What is your inspiration?

Everything really. Books I’ve read, movies I’ve seen, television shows, my obsession with Doctor Who, conversations I overheard on the subway, people I’ve known, who I used to be, who I am, who I hope I’ll be, the city I live in, the small town I grew up in, the friends I had and have, the seasons, the way a storm blows through the trees kicking up the pale green underside of the leaves, the stories I told as a child, the books I read under the covers with the flashlight, the wardrobe, my travels, the imaginary land I had when I was a kid, my cat, my husband, mythology, summer days, chess games, winter nights, history, magic….everything really.