One of the more subtle pleasures of seeing art in new-to-me museums is seeing less familiar work of iconic artists. Giacometti has always been one of my favorites, and this more modest piece beckoned me with its charm and sadness. I feel a deep world-weariness in these attenuated textured sculptures, whose mood also reminds me of Modigliani. Modigliani’s women always seem like portraits of my insides and my outsides simultaneously. And Giacometti’s fingers are so tenderly, hesitantly, determinedly present in his forms.
Makes me want to hug them. And Van Gogh, too, while I’m at it. How much beauty — of both form and spirit — they have brought to the world!