I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art this past Sunday. I was there for an art paper originally, but found myself wandering the impressionism and post-impressionism periods of the nineteenth century. It was incredible - Gauguin, Cézanne, Seurat, Manet, Monet, Braque, and Vuillard were all there, but Van Gogh was really the star in my sky.
They had a separate exhibition going on, and Starry Night over the Rhone made me come to an immediate stop. Someone almost bumped into me, and my boyfriend wanted to know what was going on, and why this was so special, but it drew me in, hugged me, and hasn’t let me go since.
The television must have been showing E! News, because I had a dream that Hilary Duff and Justin Timberlake were interested in one another. I was hiding them on campus from screaming women who were calling Ms. Duff a skank. It was a really dull and disappointing dream. All the while, Don McLean’s “Vincent” played in the background, which is ironically whose television was influencing my dream – my boyfriend’s roommate is named Vincent, but he does not bear Van Gogh’s last name.
