Hand-in-Hand

Okay, so those hands are not real. I mean, of course they are real, but they are not alive. It's not a painting, it's a sculpture. It's a detail of "Ugolino and his sons" sculpture, by Jean Baptiste Carpeux, 1857. I really find it astonishing.

The story itself is quite sad. Those hands belong to a son who is grabbing his father's legs... in hell. It's taken from Dante's Inferno book: Inferno is worse than you think, it is a place where this father is jailed with his sons, and they are all left there, they know they will die from starvation. You should see the angst face of the father... The children know they are going to die, so they ask they father not to hesitate to eat their bodies so at least he can survive.

Impressionism

I also enjoyed those ones... It is amazing how beautiful those paintings can be when you have them in front of your nose. The first picture is "Le pont d'Argenteuil", by Gustave Caillebotte. The second and third picture are from Vincent Van Gogh: Wheat field with Cypresses and Women Picking Olives, both from 1889-1890.

More Metropolitan

More works form the Museum. This is called "Spectrum", by Ellsworth Kelly.

Break Time

There's also Modern art at the Metropolitan. It needs more reflection.

Metropolitan

I just came back from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and I am still under the effects of the shock. It was simply amazing, unbelivable. This museum is certainly one of the best I have ever visited, or, at least, let's say that they have a lot of stuff, and of everything. Everyone can find some kind of happiness there... Waw, I simply look forward to next Friday to go there again.
I posted some of the paintings I liked the most... Forget about pictures today, just see the works of those artists. And if you can, go to the Metropolitan!

The paintings are, from lef to right, up to down:
1. Arabs crossing the Desert. Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1870
2. Jerusalem from the environs. Charles Théodore, 1881.
3. The Eruption of Vesuvius. Jean Christian Dahl, 1824.
4. The weeders. Jules Breton, 1868.