Bouquets To Art And What Fades, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:40am

Thursday I went with a friend to Bouquets to Art, a fundraiser held annually at two of the city’s older museums, where local florists install their work paired with a chosen piece of art.

Words get in the way, a bit, for me. So, behold the entry to the Legion of Honor’s Rodin Gallery, where we went first. Those are all flowers or other plant materials. Hooboy.

From the museums’ shared website: “Opened in 1924, the Legion of Honor showcases European painting, sculpture, and decorative arts, ancient art, graphic arts, and contemporary art.”

Waves, more or less figurative.

Protea!

Then we moved on to the de Young. “Opened in 1895, the de Young is home to American art from the 17th century through today, textile arts and costumes, African art, Oceanic art, arts of the Americas, and international contemporary art.”

Ikebana?

I could live in that painting on the left, without a second thought.

Whatever their missions, the Legion feels more traditional and western, the de Young, more modern and multicultural. Finally, here’s a painting at the de Young, which does for flowers what flowers did for art, so to speak. Reciprocity; the cornerstone of societies.

I’ve so often visited museums while traveling, where one might feel obliged to see everything. One might also feel obliged to see The Timeless Art come hell or high water. But flowers die. In this exhibition, some were already wilting. The organic reality, and the general domesticity of flowers in vessels, felt like permission to rush about as we willed, stopped only by what caught our eye and ignoring the rest. Sometimes art provokes thought and sometimes it is more visceral, emotional. I did not smell any roses, but the day was seized. Or perhaps it seized us.

Which brings me, in these times, to another day next weekend, June 14th  to be precise. It’s the date of the military parade in Washington, and also a protest across the nation. No Kings, they call it. I can vote for that, and I will be at the San Francisco protest.  If you just cannot muster, consider a donation. If you cannot donate, have a wonderful weekend in any case. As an aside, protests are great. You’ll feel encouraged, no longer powerless, and as though you matter.

Which you do. Art says so.