Today I went to the Rijks (rhymes with bikes) museum to see the famous art. This Monet I recognized immediately, though we’d never been introduced.
This VG also needed no introduction.
And finally, the large and in charge Rembrandt, “The Night Watch.”
For the watch. For the watch. For the watch.
This painting is famous not only because of the artist, but also because portraits of militia had all been posed before. This one had action, including a gun going off, a dude cleaning is gear, conversations, and a little girl with a dead chicken. Genius. A rumor says that the half face peaking out from behind the guy in the upper left with his hand out as if to say BUT SOFT WHAT LIGHT THROUGH YONDER yadda yadda is Rembrandt himself. This painting is huge and overwhelming. I moved on to art I could digest without the madding crowd.
I found a few gems. Here is a drunken couple getting robbed.
Here is a landscape with animals.
Such a sweet scene with a camel, some goats, an elephant, a stag, and a–
Hold. The. Bus. I think that might be the last unicorn, right here chillin with grown up Bambi. How is THIS not the main attraction? HALF the “Night’s Watch” is just dark background nothing. This is pure magic.
Art is hard to digest to I went to the Pancake Bakery and ordered the apple pancake.
Yes, the pancake is bigger than my plate. Yes, that is ice cream and powdered sugar. Yes I made the right decision in ordering only one.
Can we talk about condiments for a second.
Cuz America has a lot of condiments. But we do not have a pot with a wooden stick at every table like this.
I don’t know what’s in there. My pancake didn’t need anything else on it, and no one else was using their sticks at their table, so I just stared at it for 20 minutes like a normal person.
I’m guessing it’s nutella? I don’t know! How is it not congealing! This is going to keep me up at night.
After a pancake that I swear was bigger on the inside, I took a walk down a canal. The pancake place was near a semi famous house.
This is the door to the house where Anne Frank was in hiding with her fam. The line to get in to the museum was reminiscent of the line at Disneyland to go see Anna and Elsa, only this line didn’t end with warm hugs. People were lined up as if Anne was going to do a signing. Now, it’s time for some truth telling. Forget all the lies you’ve read so far. The fact is that I have not actually read Anne Frank’s diary. Gasp. Cry. Lookit, I got through school without it ever being assigned; I have had only an obligatory desire to read it; and I’ve read many WWII books, fiction and non, that I know how draining it can be to get in that head space. And, spoiler alert, Anne is definitely NOT doing a meet-and-greet.
So I didn’t go in the museum. Honestly, I think I can do only one museum per day. It’s like looking at a bunch of 14th, 15th, or 16th century buildings. The more you see, the less impressive they become.
“I am not performing miracles. I am using up and wasting a lot of paint.”~ Claude Monet.
paralyzedbynotcaring 