Children are magnets and so I am pulled more often to Brooklyn, where my older son lives. I like to meet him at the Brooklyn Museum, because there is so much to look at--lots of Rodins, for starters--even if you don't enter into the galleries of this enormous treasure house. The Brooklyn Museum holds New York City's second-largest collection of art. And they are quite clever about juxtapositions among pieces.
One of my favorite works is a marble by Salvatore Albano, called The Fallen Angels.
I've seen this piece many times but for some reason yesterday I really looked at it, lingering for a good half an hour as I circled.
(I had only the camera on my cell phone, so apologies for photo quality.) The late afternoon sun on the piece only added to the sense of life.
Feet twist and tangle through feathers. A snake slithers across one angel's shoulders. Another bites a knuckle in anguish, as if stifling a scream.
A feverish tangle of limbs, hands digging into flesh, grasping for a hold. The skeletal underside of a mortal wing. The confusion of falling.
OK. Not Bernini. (Nothing tops the Rape of Proserpina.) But... Brooklyn.