Between eating and drinking myself into oblivion over the weekend in Chicago, I managed to get in some culture.  I’m already a pop culture sponge, mind you.  But I don’t know much about fine art.   The closest I’ve ever been to fine art is visiting my boss’ relatives in  Palm Beach.  They own a gallery that caters to the very, very, obscenely rich.  And they’ll be the first to tell you … “fine art never depreciates.”

So, of course, since my weekend was so obnoxiously hedonistic, I figured I’d better balance it out with a visit to the famed Art Institute of Chicago.  Yes, the one that was featured in that montage in “Ferris Bueller”.

For the first twenty minutes, I walked around like a discriminating critic.  I would analyze and scrutinize each and every painting, sculpture and photograph.   And then I quickly realized it would take me 36 years to make it through the museum.  So I sped things up a bit.

I went with my dear friend Anne who traipsed through the Art Institute like a woman on a mission.  She wanted to see the photograph exhibit and then visit the gift shop.   All I wanted, meanwhile, was see my favorite painting ever … Seraut’s A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte (1884).   To me, it’s just the perfect moment frozen in time.  It’s a little slice of life.  The combination of color and composition is amazing. 

Seurat spent two years painting it … reworking it several times.  What a cross to bear to sit in a park and make sketch after sketch perfecting the final product, huh?  Seurat would mix and match miniature dots of colors – which when unified forms a single hue in the viewer’s eye.  Or something like that.  Seraut believed that this form of painting, now known as pointillism, would make the colors more brilliant and powerful than standard brush strokes.

It’s one of many highlights at the Art Institute.  There’s a new modern wing that has to see to be believed.  It’s simultaneously jaw-dropping and inspiring.  It’s tastefully arranged so guests can meander around aimlessly to see new artists’ work.  I felt like I was getting a sneak preview of the latest and greatest.  And someday I’ll be able to say, “I saw that artist when …”

God bless artsy-fartsy people.  I can’t paint, draw or sculpt to save my life.  But it’s nice to know there are places out there I can appreciate the handiwork of others.