Sunflowers

Keith and I went to Philadelphia this weekend to celebrate a friend's birthday. We all decided to take advantage of the name-your-own-price admission at the Philadelphia Art Museum, so we spent a few hours walking around. Every time I go to an art museum, it seems like I manage to run into a really personally important piece.

In 2009, my family and I went to the Chicago Art Institute. We spent hours and hours walking around and just before we were going to call it quits, I turned around to see Picasso's Blue Guitarist.  It was probably one of the earliest pieces that I had ever studied (I even reproduced a version of it for my 9th grade Spanish class). It was the first time seeing a piece of art made me cry.

Van Gogh Vase with Twelve Sunflowers

Back to Philadelphia. My friends and I were walking around and we entered a room with a fountain the floor. We were joking about the unsubstantial sculpture in the center when I looked up and saw it. I exclaimed, "What? Is that? What??" before running off. It was Van Gogh's sunflowers. Van Gogh is probably the first painter that I ever loved, really loved. I love the thick, texture of his work, his painterly realism, and his saturated palette. My heart swelled with the surprise of finding it there.

Cy Twombly Fifty Days at Illiam: The Fire That Consumes All Before It (source)

What I love about art, so dearly though, is that you can see the changes in your own life through it. What I mean is that I can see how I have changed and grown my examining my responses to different works. While seeing a Van Gogh has been a dream for years, it was this piece by Cy Twombly that has been stuck in my mind and really made me feel heartbroken.

Do you have any memorable or emotional stories from visiting an art gallery?