I was traveling to St. Louis to see my sister, and it turned out, after four flight fiascoes, that I was only to be there for about 36 hours.  I had heard nothing of the St. Louis Art Museum, and my feelings toward the city was that it had culture, or at least good food, but not that it had anything spectacular to offer along the lines of art.  But for some reason—perhaps the gracious gods of fine art bestowed some spirit of commitment in me—I made time to visit the St. Louis Art Museum.

The first thing to know about the Museum is that it is located in Forest Park, the second largest city park in the nation – second only to Central Park in New York.  This immediately impressed me, as I find there to be something rather lovely about the pairing of natural aesthetics with human aesthetics (the Met in Central Park, the Royal Academy by Hyde Park, the Tate Britain and Tate Modern on the Thames, the Musee D’Orsay on the Seine… it’s obviously a theme).  Perhaps we feel that our creations should be married with a creation larger than ourselves, or maybe we feel that our beauties would be most beautiful next to larger beauties.  Whatever it is, the St. Louis Art Museum achieved it marvelously.  And surprisingly, unlike the museums listed above that are sided with some grand city street, the museum stands alone in the park, has no city element at all near it, and looks fondly down upon a grand fountain.

I walked in, and again, I was impressed because the Museum is a member of the American Association of Museums, and because I am, I didn’t have to pay an entry fee to the special exhibition.  As an almost-graduate student, this was very good news.  The rest of the Museum is free to the public, which is also something I admire.  (Museums like the Guggenheim in New York that charge $18 entry fees to the public upset me greatly).

And now for the good part – the work itself.  I first meandered into one of the side rooms, which incidentally held 18th and 19th century art.  I must say that even amidst my initial positive impressions, I was not expecting much.  But lo and behold – Thomas Gainsborough, Sir Joshua Reynolds, a Courbet – all sorts of lovely 18th century British work.  The Impressionist room next door was equally impressive – one of the prettiest Monet water lilly paintings I’ve seen (most of the time I fail to be too captivated), Derain, Matisse, Gauguin.  The thing about all the works is that it didn’t seem that the curators were collecting or exhibiting them just because they had big names – the pieces themselves, though not major works, were particularly lovely minor works.

I traveled downstairs to encounter a very well-curated exhibition of Native American Art, which is rare to see in any museum, and also encountered an exhibition of South American Andean art, which I believe is the only exhibition on the subject I’ve ever seen.  Because I’m about to spend a year studying the politics of “western” and “non-western” art, the presence of these exhibitions was particularly noteworthy.

I then proceeded upstairs to the floor of Modern art, and while I was rushed because it was Sunday and the Museum was closing early, there was an interesting Dan Flavin, some Picasso, Miro, and Anselm Kiefer.

But the real pinnacle was the special exhibition itself, a visual look into the treasures of the Ming Dynasty in China.  Not only was the exhibition clear and well-curated, but the design of it encouraged milling around the objects, and looking at all sides of them.  It also included decorative arts and even exceptional kimono tailoring and design.  What was most impressive, however, was the condition of the objects themselves.  It was obvious that the intent of the curators was to find the most well-kept objects that reflected the premise of the exhibition.  Some of them were in such good condition, for example the fabric of the kimonos, that they looked better than clothing one might find at thrift shop, which is saying a lot considering its five-hundred years old and instead of ten years old.  Also, again, the fact that their premiere exhibition was of nonwestern content suited my sentiments perfectly.

My raving proves that I was impressed.  The Saint Louis (pronounced fancily this time, like Saan Louey) Art Museum has much to offer, and is well worth making time for, even if you’re only going to be in town for a day.  It almost matched 34 Club, a dive bar with a fab bartender that matched our money on the internet jukebox.  All kidding aside, the Museum is very much a highlight of the city, and I highly recommend it to the art connoisseur or the lay art peruser.  There’s also something to be said here for a commitment to seeing art wherever one goes, even if it doesn’t seem like a place that would have a decent museum or decent galleries.  You never know when you’ll be surprised, and even if you aren’t, you’ll know the city is not worth going back to for art alone.