I've never really been big on painting. Had someone actually painted a portrait of me, I'd be huge on it, literally. By the sound of it, "oil on canvas" has got to add more pounds than the camera.
I've been to the ROM a couple of times when I was in Toronto. Other than a five-by-two-meter canvas with nothing but black paint throughout—which to this date I still don't see as ROM-worthy work, I can't recall being captured by any particular piece.
A visit or two to the Louvre would've been a must if I had followed through with my European journey last month. Little did I know that there's a piece of France right here at home. Our sardine-can city is in the midst of embracing L'annee de la France en Chine, of which Impressionism: Treasures from the National Collection of France is a highlight program.
I'm not going to comment on the art. But there were a couple of pieces that left a good impression with me, including this one:
A Studio in Batignolles, 1870, by Henri Fantin-Latour
Now the criticism. HSBC Premium account holders deserve only the best. The cocktail set on the ground floor of the Hong Kong Museum of Art next to a classical quartet was more decent than I'd expect Maxim to pull off. Well-mannered female servers walked around with trays of fresh OJ, grape soda and peach soda, and plates of finger snacks. At the sound of "It's caviar!" I witnessed the server who was standing two feet from me take the batter of a lifetime. I barely had time to back off before swarms of premium free riders centered in on her from all directions fighting for the eight mini tartlets left on her tray. Those who couldn't get close enough reached far out with their arms like loyal fans dying for a handshake with MJ outside the courthouse.
Hong Kong can be portrayed as the cultural hub of Asia. But Hong Kongers will always be Hong Kongers. And Hong Kongers can turn art exhibitions into buffets.
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