The other night N and I hit the city for an after hours art museum party.
We sipped wine and champagne, respectively, and between visits to the cheese table, admired Pop, Pre-Raphaelite, and Impressionist art (among others).
I love after hours museum gatherings, but more for the solitary moments than the socializing; I always feel as if I am breaking the rules (you shouldn't be here this late!) as we enter hushed, abandoned rooms full of old master works. There is something deliciously illicit about it, but reverent as well. A friend once commented, while visiting NYC's MOMA during a semester of Art History, that seeing the art in real life was like meeting a rock star in person. There is a feeling of awe at seeing a work you've only read about and studied photographs of. It lends the piece a new dimension when you consider that the artist once stood where you stand in relation to the canvas (sculpture, textile etc.) during the work's inception. It gives the art geek in me goosebumps.
Love these colors!
One of the models from the Spring Fashion Show.
They did not approve.
Singing Edith Piaf.
Coy lady in a fab hat.
Who is that sweet girl in the pink dress?