If you have read or followed my blog for any considerable length of time, you may know that I am in a (losing?) battle of playing catch-up with my photos and related writings of the last several years. I remain undeterred, so without further ado—this, the latest installment of my blog backlog.

In late July 2017, I was visiting my parents and we went to the Brandywine River Museum to see "Andrew Wyeth: In Retrospect," a show in honor of the artist's 100th birthday. I have always loved the Wyeths and for fellow Wyeth-lovers, the Brandywine River Museum is an essential museum experience. The museum is built in an old mill on the Brandywine River in Chadds Ford, PA and the modern museum architecture has multi-story panoramic windows looking out over the river. A summer visit to the museum is incredibly lovely, with the lush greenery of the gardens outside and along the riverbanks. Standing on an upper story of the museum, you can look out directly into the treetops and watch as boaters on kayak or canoe pass by on the waters below.

When I was in high school, my art teacher, Mrs. Mortimer, did the most incredible job of connecting and interrelating so many artists and periods of art history, including a great deal of local artists. In hindsight, I see how amazing our class field trips were—we visited the Brandywine River Museum, saw the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and visited the Delaware Art Museum after studying the PRB (Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood) and Dale Chihuly (an installation of his "Persians" is on view there). In her class is where I learned about and fell in love with the work of Maxfield Parrish (that Parrish blue!) and so many other artists.

Back to the Brandywine—the museum features the works of three generations of Wyeths—N.C., Andrew, and Jamie. N.C. was part of the contingent of artists and illustrators in the area during the "Golden Age of Illustration." Among them, Howard Pyle and Maxfield Parrish were others from the Philadelphia region and some of their work is included in the museum's holdings as well. My favorite pieces by N.C. are the monumental illustrations for books like "Treasure Island." My family has a copy of "Treasure Island" with Wyeth's illustrations and the endpaper is so menacing and perfect. I remember my Aunt Julia visiting when I was a kid and she read aloud to us from "Treasure Island" and we pored over the illustrations together. It is fascinating to walk through the museum and see the original paintings for the book, which are enormous and filled with incredible texture, use of color and light, and detail. It is also amazing to see the artistic influences passed from father to son and to note where there are obvious overlaps in the Wyeths' technical training and subject matter. Of the three artists, I certainly have a fondness for N.C.'s work, and it is always interesting to consider that Jamie was a contemporary of Andy Warhol, but Andrew Wyeth remains my favorite. His landscapes and scenery are spare but rich with texture and detail. I bought several postcards from the exhibit and have rotated them through among my art hanging on my bedroom walls. Following, some of my favorites from the exhibit, in photos.

The painting pictured above is titled "Goodbye" (2008) and was Wyeth's last painting before his death in 2009. The text panel below shares more details of the painting, depicting one of the Wyeth's familiar Maine locales. 

The painting above is titled "Hoffman's Slough" and is a view of a Brandywine Valley landscape familiar to and frequented by Wyeth. The horizon just barely dips below the top of the frame and once again, I am stunned by Wyeth's landscapes and the enveloping presence he imbues them with. The detail shot below illustrates further the dramatic sense of scale at play here—the only apparent structures being a tiny house and barn just below the horizon near the top edge of the painting. I love the light from the unseen sky reflected in the water of this shadowy landscape.

My postcard souvenirs from the exhibit feature the paintings above and below. <3

I think another of the reasons I love Wyeth's work so is that so much of his subject matter resonates in its familiarity and nostalgic qualities. Because I grew up so near to where he lived, his subject landscapes and structures carry such a feeling of home for me.

so much gorgeous texture and light in this exterior photo of the museum. I love the warm red brick juxtaposed against the greenery. Rustic vernacular architecture with its use of found stones remains one of my favorite types.

"Trodden Weed," which has something of the ethos of Albrecht Dürer's "Great Piece of Turf" (another piece which was the subject of my high school art class's study).

The millstones from the mill's operational days are embedded in pavement and stone walkways throughout the museum complex. The museum's logo also features one such millstone and I love it so.

above and below: the gardens outside the museum, ft. cosmos and sculptures

the lace curtains!! and worn roller shade! So exquisite.

This is the view of the river outside the museum. It's such a beautiful valley, and Terrain and Longwood Gardens are both very closeby!

above: a beautiful stone barn located near the museum. My dad obligingly pulled the car over so I could get out and take a photo, as I am wont to do.

It's been so long since I have been to the Brandywine (my last visit was in late August 2019) and I hope that I get to visit again soon (post-pandemic, naturally), as it remains a longtime favorite. If you ever find yourself in the Philadelphia area, I promise it is well worth the trek outside of the city to see it.

. . . . 

on a related note: this 2017 piece in the NYTimes Arts & Design section (written at the time the retrospective exhibit opened) is a fascinating read on Andrew Wyeth's treatment of race in his art. I think the ethos of the piece is really important—Gwendolyn DuBois Shaw, an art historian and professor, sought to identify and acknowledge the power dynamics and disparities at play in Wyeth's work. I think this is a very important perspective to consider when viewing art (of any kind) that addresses race and considering the creator or writer and what claims they have, or don't, to making such depictions, as well as whether their representation is clouded or colored by an imbalance of power or authority. An interesting read with so much practical implication as well.

A visit to the Musei Vaticani is an other-worldly experience. The place is chock-full of some of the most incredible (Judeo-Christian) religious art in the world (my aforesaid parenthetical note a nod to the equally beautiful contributions of many other religious or animistic traditions) while also seeming never to end in its utter opulence and labyrinthine network of hallways. I visited the Vatican in 2011, but on this particular visit in 2017, I felt that I had more time to absorb and revel in the experience (and perhaps was better-prepared with my first-hand knowledge for the deluge). Of all the many intricate flooring designs, the tiles pictured above were my favorite. I love the painterly quality of the colors.

On our first day in Rome, I arrived several hours ahead of Emily. I checked into our Airbnb and deposited my luggage, then I went for a long walk and some gelato. I spent a while in the piazza of St. Peter's Basilica and watched the fading daylight. The glow of the lights reflecting on the piazza's cobblestones was so beautiful. In another post, I'll share the video I took of the cathedral bells chiming the change of the hour.

One of my very favorite pieces we saw was this Van Gogh pietà. Per the painted annotation, it was painted after Eugène Delacroix's Pietà in the National Gallery of Oslo, Norway.

Another of my favorites was this Marc Chagall goache "Pietà rouge." (unfortunately, it was difficult to photograph glass-covered works as they reflected the hanging works on the walls verso)

Emily captured this sneaky shot of the Capella Sistina with her front-facing camera. The Sistine Chapel is so beautiful; the room itself is inauspicious until you look up. Michelangelo's Last Judgment on the altar wall, with its panoply of figures, is the antithesis of the order and light of the creation and Old Testament stories rendered in plaster on the ceiling. I have a renewed appreciation for the skill and mastery required by frescoes—I've loved following Gabrielle Blair's (Design Mom) instagram and blog for years and her family is currently restoring a historic home in Normandy. She has shared lots of videos about tinting and applying plaster in several rooms of their home and it's a fascinating process to watch with beautiful results!

Intricate ceilings for as far as the eye can see!

In the hallway pictured above, the walls were filled with painted maps of different areas of Italy. I loved this one with my bellina Siena.

Odilon Redon, "Sainte Jeanne d'Arc" in pastel. I love the understated use of color here.

still enchanted by the Matisse La vierge à l'Enfant (and the rest of the Vatican's Matisse collection)

This staircase! The most spectacular!

I still as yet have never climbed the dome of St. Peter's Basilica, but I think I need to make that a priority if I make it back to Rome again (I hope!).

Backlogging, again—this time, a September 2016 spontaneous trip home on airline miles to alleviate an extreme case of F.O.M.O.

I was a new college freshman when LDS church leaders announced a temple to be built in Philadelphia (!!!)—my home, basically (east coast geography being what it is; Philadelphia is my home airport and my simplest point of reference for where I'm from). Just shy of a decade later (2016), the construction was wrapping up and I saw dozens of posts from friends and family members back home sharing details of the temple open house (the several-week-long event run by church volunteers to give tours of the temple before its dedication and subsequent limited entry) and  of the exterior and their involvement in the open house events. I was a little heartbroken not to be headed back east before its dedication, as I'd likely never have the same kind of opportunity to see all the details of the edifice and share in that bit of history, joy, and celebration. My heartache over this had yet to subside when the final week of the open house dawned. Undeterred, I scoured the internet for decent last-minute airfare, and booked a redeye home for three days hence. I would make it just in time to visit the open house on its very last day. As soon as my plane ticket was secured, my mom was thrilled and took the day off work so we could make a day of it. She picked me up at the airport bright and early, and we found an empty office supply store parking lot on the outskirts of Philly where we sat in the car and talked until it was late enough (late! ha. hello redeye) for at least a few restaurants to open for breakfast.

The Dutch was a delightful discovery—Dutch pancakes (or German pancakes or oven pancakes; I've heard it both [all] ways) being a longtime family and personal favorite. The Pennsylvania Dutch design motifs and bold graphic colorblocking made my design-heart happy as well.

It was such a special experience to visit the temple open house with my mom—she moved to Philadelphia in the 1980s for medical school, and we ran into family friends from New Jersey and Pennsylvania, as well as many well-known faces from her days living in Philadelphia. I loved the design accoutrements paying homage to the rich history of Philadelphia and the area where I grew up and call home. When we arrived, the local fire department was doing some drills for how they would respond if there were an emergency at the temple—I loved passing the fire truck and the firefighters on their way in and out; so much about the moment underscored this city of brotherly love.

After leaving the temple, we made two other stops in the city—a museum double-header, if you will. I'd not been to the Barnes Foundation since its move to the Parkway (in fact, I'd not been there since maybe middle school?!) and I'd forgotten quite how amazing it is. The Matisse mural and the metalwork affixed to the walls between paintings were my most favorite details from this (re)visit. And the Philadelphia Museum of Art is always a delight—my parents have had a membership there for as long as I can remember, and wandering the familiar wings of the museum is always an afternoon well-spent.

prettiest colonial houses in Haddonfield—these are the things I miss when I'm in Utah. <3

All in all, any trip back home to the east coast makes my heart happy and at home, and this was no exception.