Showing posts with label Edvard Munch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edvard Munch. Show all posts

17 January 2011

They're Coming Along For The Ride Now

I haven't made a habit of checking the statistics about my blogs.  But today I took a peek. 


It seems that during the past week, one of my early posts on this blog has been viewed more times than any of my other posts has been in the history of my blog.  In fact, that particular post is now the most-viewed in the history (such as it is) of this blog.


I wonder why they're all reading "Edvard Munch Comes Along For The Ride" now.



13 August 2010

Edvard Munch Comes Along For The Ride

Poor Edvard Munch.  People like me take a couple of Art History classes in college, and all we remember of him is one painting.



And that is the work I recalled when I came across this during my ride today:



Now, I don’t know much about his life.  So what I’m about to say is pure conjecture.  Somehow, because he painted “The Scream,” I don’t think he would have been averse to seeing something like this:



It’s a photo I took by the World’s Fair Marina, which is near Citi Field and LaGuardia Airport.  I saw that scene on my way home from Manhasset, in Nassau County, where my ride took me today. 

Why do I say he could enjoy that scene because he painted the scream?  Well, when I think of Munch, I can’t help but to think of another famous Norwegian who lived during his time:  Henrik Ibsen.  I think that Ibsen, because he was the sort of person who could so vividly portray hypocrisy and despair so well in his art, craved something better.  Literally and figuratively, the bleakness of the northern winter he portrayed made him crave the sun, if you will.  So it’s no surprise that after he wrote A Doll’s House, he spent most of the rest of his life in Italy.

I think Ibsen and Munch would have appreciated this, too:



However, I’m not so sure they would have wanted to accompany me on my ride.  In their day, cyclists rode “high-wheelers,” which could make even the slightest crack in the ground seem as if it had its own ZIP code and telephone exchange.  The streets in eastern Queens, near the Nassau county line, were more like washboards in some spots.

Anyway, it was still a nice ride at the end of a nice day.  Who could ask for more?

(The “scream” photo was taken at International Meat Market on 30th Avenue in Astoria.)