The Cloisters

Ian and I went up to The Cloisters yesterday. I'd been itching to leave the city, and the threat of thunderstorms caused us to rethink our plan to go hiking near Cold Spring. But taking the A train up to 190th St. was just as good as leaving the city; we ended up 187 blocks from our apartment but might as well have been on another planet-- we found the world's most peaceful spot, not to mention the best museum in New York.

 

From the train station we strolled through Fort Tryon Park, a revolutionary war outpost turned enchanting grassy knoll with spectacular views of the Hudson. Everything was green and dewy-wet after the rain, and as we walked up to The Cloisters, there were no sounds except for chirping birds.

 

"Museum" doesn't really do the place justice; it is a convincing recreation of a medieval monastery that actually incorporates bits of architecture (doorways, ceilings, columns, arches) from historical sites. It feels less like you're looking at art carefully preserved for centuries and more like you've stepped into a time machine.

 

I neglected to bring my camera, and taking pictures in a medieval monastery would have seemed wrong, anyway. But here's my impression of the place, expertly rendered using Microsoft's Paint.

 

 

The Unicorn Tapestries are, for the record, magnificent, but they are by no means the only things to see. I was charmed by a bunch of statues that feature the Virgin Mary standing with baby Jesus on her left hip. Both mother and child look cheerful, alert, and ready for anything. I don't know what art historians label these, but I'm calling them relics from Mary's Sassy Period, and I like them a lot. Here's one example from the Met website-- I looked for but couldn't find a postcard.

 

After wandering through the galleries on our own and marveling at such treasures as St. Michael trouncing a particularly gnarly-looking devil, we took a guided tour of the museum's many gardens. Carol, our delightful docent, not only described the function and layout of monastery gardens, but also lectured to us about the representation of plants in medieval art. Best of all, she quoted medieval gardeners' practical advice on a variety of subjects, including: planting shade trees (not too close together or spiders will weave webs between them); flowering meadows (nice to lie about in on spring afternoons); and pomegranates (lots of seeds, good for fertility treatments).

 

After a garden-side sandwich lunch at the museum's Trie Cafe, we headed back out to Fort Tryon Park. It had turned out to be a beautifully sunny (but windy!) day, and Ian snapped an iPhone photo of me in one of the park's gardens.

 

Because The Cloisters is a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, buying a ticket to one gets you free admission to the other. We decided to get our money's worth and took a long, sleepy bus ride down to the Met (open until 9 PM on Saturdays!) where we visited a few of the special, temporary exhibitions. In keeping with our medieval theme, we headed first to The Mourners: Medieval Tomb Sculptures from the Court of Burgundy, an arresting collection of thirty-seven foot-high marble statues depicting a funeral procession. As we wandered around and glanced at the other medieval art, we realized that we'd become experts: I spotted several other pieces from Mary's Sassy Period, and Ian was able to identify St. James the Greater by sight.

 

Next we headed up to the rooftop garden, where there is currently a strange bamboo sculpture. Despite the lovely breeze and the beautiful view, we refrained from buying $8 bottles of Brooklyn Summer Ale. Here is Ian among the bamboo stalks:

 

 

On our way out we walked through American Woman:  Fashioning a National Identity, because fashion is always fun, and the newly re-opened hall of musical instruments, mostly because I wanted to gawk at the funny old bassoons. Summary: Stradivari violins, says Ian, are probably more fun to play than they are to look at; also, there have been some pretty crazy-looking instruments over the years.

 

Back at home, we had the distinct feeling that maybe the Middle Ages weren't as bad as the history books say. We ate bread and cheese by candlelight, listening to the wind roaring outside. Oh, and to the Decemberists playing on my laptop.

 

It was a good day, all around.