That One Time I Cried At An Art Museum

(Via Wikipedia)

Usually I don't cry in public.  

But sometimes, you just gotta. 

In late July of last summer, my family and I went to the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, California.  I'm the type of person that enjoys museums of all types, especially art museums.  So having the opportunity to get to go to a prominent art museum in Los Angeles made me very excited.

My reasons for being exited to go to the Getty didn't end there.  Not only did they have a large selection of esteemed artists there, such as Claude Monet, Edgar Degas, and Paul Gauguin, but they had a painting by one of my favorite artists of all time displayed there.  In fact, they only had one painting by that artist there.  That artist would be Van Gogh, and that painting would be his Irises (as shown above).

As cliche as it is, Van Gogh is one of my favorite artists.  I don't know why, but I've liked his art for a long time.  I especially enjoy the story of his life.  I admire how the immense amount of pain in his life fueled him to continue his art, even until his death.  Ever since he had become one of my favorite artists, one of my goals I wanted to accomplish before I die was to see one of his paintings in real life.  So luckily, I had that chance in Los Angeles.

The Getty Museum is located on top of a mountain, and the parking lot is positioned at its base.  When we arrived at the museum's parking lot, we had to take a train to get up to the museum.  The view from the tram up was a smoggy picture of Los Angeles.  It was pretty in its own way.  Once we got off of the train there was a large amount of steps leading up to the museum's several entrances -- there were several wings of the museum.

I couldn't stop thinking about seeing Van Gogh's Irises in the flesh, so we made that our first stop.  It was on the third floor in one of the buildings.  I hastily made my way up the flight of stairs, and wandered around the floor until I found the room with the painting I wanted to see in it.  I walked into one room, where I saw a large group of people huddled in front of one painting.  I knew that was the one.  I walked over to the group in front of the painting.  And there it was, in all of its glory.  Van Gogh's Irises.  

I also arrived there at a perfect time. The large group of people in front of the painting were actually apart of a tour guide exploring the museum's most famous paintings.  At the moment, they were discussing and analyzing his painting.  The head of the tour group asked the group to answer why they thought there was only one white flower in a group full of purple ones.  The tour guide answered, theorizing that it was because the white iris symbolizes Van Gogh and how he didn't fit in with the rest of the people, who were symbolically purple flowers.  Of course, we'll never know the true meaning, but it was interesting to hear the museum's take on the piece.  

When the tour guide left and moved on, I was able to stare at the painting alone.  Now about the crying part.  I didn't actually cry.  I teared up, but I wasn't crying.  Seeing this painting meant a lot to me, and I was thrilled to finally be able to see it in real life.  I wanted to relish it as much as I possibly could.  I got up super close, examined each brush stroke, and I tried to take a picture of the painting.  Unfortunately though, there was a security guard right behind me, and he yelled at me because I was too close to the painting.  He went on a rant about how this painting is very expensive and delicate and I need to be more careful around it.  I should have known better, but there was a large chance I'd never be able to see the painting again.

Overall, despite how embarrassing I was, everything was worth it in the end. Even tearing up in a public place was worth it.