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A master art thief is sitting in a private plane on the runway right now, able to fly anywhere in the world. All you have to do is name the artwork and they’ll creatively acquire it for you, transport it to your home no questions asked and no risk to you, and you, in turn, can display it however you want for the rest of your life. In short:
What great work of fine art would you steal (and why)?
My answer is Salvador Dali’s The Persistence of Memory(1931), which you can find hanging on the walls of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. It has always spoken about the flexibility of time, how we experience it, how we remember it, and that matters more and more to me with every year I accumulate on this planet.
Please note, this question isn’t just limited to fine art. Be as creative as you want when you answer.
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It's probably a cliche, but Van Gogh's Starry Night. I have deepened my love of impressionist since then, but it was the first piece of art that showed me art could be more than a copy of the world around me, that it could show me something deeper. It is so beautiful, so dynamic, it changed how I see art.
In the museum of natural history in Chicago, sometime mid-to-late twentieth century, saw two artifacts I’d commit a felony for. The first, an Asian carved ink stone, just the size of my palm. Carved from dark green jade were a flat surface about two postage stamps in area, a slight depression for ink about two centimeters in diameter and possibly 1.5 cm deep. Around the rim, surrounding three sides of the inkwell was exquisitely carved an extremely detailed bunch of grapes. Good thing it was behind glass!
The second, in the basement in the Egyptian exhibit, was a simple strand of amethyst beads, whose age, measured in millennia, I’ve forgotten. Again, inaccessible. Again, branded in my memory.
A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat. For me it is a painting of contrast and contradiction. It is busy but has a strange absence of motion and appears to have such clean lines when in fact it has none. Its subject is clearly of its time but it feels much more contemporary in style. This is one of many paintings I’ve loved in print form since my teens and I got to see it in person and up close for the first time in November. It did not disappoint. I would have sat and contemplated it for hours.
Hopper's Nighthawks. I adore the lines, the light and the general feel of this piece. I could stare at it forever.
It's probably a cliche, but Van Gogh's Starry Night. I have deepened my love of impressionist since then, but it was the first piece of art that showed me art could be more than a copy of the world around me, that it could show me something deeper. It is so beautiful, so dynamic, it changed how I see art.
This isn't a great place to share this, but I just read a post by V. Rao and in reminded me of 5AM StoryTalk.
https://www.ribbonfarm.com/2024/03/13/storytelling-just-add-dinosaurs/
I'm not asking for a comment or criticism. I just thought you might have an interest.
FYI, I've enjoyed following you for the last couple of months. I've gained a lot of insight. Thanks!
Maybe a bad choice because so many copies exist in the world, but Rodin's Thinker is what I would like (if sculptures are allowed).
If it has to be a painting, then Munch's Scream.
Perhaps not a "fine art" per se, but I'd like to steal the consciousness of Hui Neng, who wrote a commentary on the Diamond Sutra.
In the museum of natural history in Chicago, sometime mid-to-late twentieth century, saw two artifacts I’d commit a felony for. The first, an Asian carved ink stone, just the size of my palm. Carved from dark green jade were a flat surface about two postage stamps in area, a slight depression for ink about two centimeters in diameter and possibly 1.5 cm deep. Around the rim, surrounding three sides of the inkwell was exquisitely carved an extremely detailed bunch of grapes. Good thing it was behind glass!
The second, in the basement in the Egyptian exhibit, was a simple strand of amethyst beads, whose age, measured in millennia, I’ve forgotten. Again, inaccessible. Again, branded in my memory.
A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat. For me it is a painting of contrast and contradiction. It is busy but has a strange absence of motion and appears to have such clean lines when in fact it has none. Its subject is clearly of its time but it feels much more contemporary in style. This is one of many paintings I’ve loved in print form since my teens and I got to see it in person and up close for the first time in November. It did not disappoint. I would have sat and contemplated it for hours.