Fizzy Milk #101
cuz I don't fucking speak German
Edward Hopper, Nighthawks, 1942
I cried in the Art Institute of Chicago when looking at this painting yesterday. I’m not giving Hopper the credit because I don’t think he moved me to tears. I was incredibly jet lagged, had arrived in the city 2 hours before and it was technically 2am London time. I am also on my period and every couple of months I get what I call mega-periods, that are off the scale pain-wise, and tearing up at photos of puppies emotion-wise. Sorry for oversharing in the bit that’s meant to be about art but you’ve simply got to understand what kind of situation we’re dealing with here.
Anyway, if you ever cried at a Taylor Swift song and questioned your sanity the next day you probably know what the vibe is. Regardless, Hopper was quite good, wasn’t he? He captured quiet American life, and in his own words, “unconsciously, probably, I was painting the loneliness of a large city.” I’ve been thinking about loneliness and friendship a lot recently and I think this hit me at just the right (wrong) time. I think the best art does that.
I don’t want to be a crank and complain about money here, but it’s absolutely mental that the Art Institute of Chicago standard entry is $32. The UK doesn’t have a lot of things going for it right now, but museums being free certainly is something.
Congrats you’ve made it to the end! Todah Rabah.
Eleanor x