Tag Archives: original Phillips house

(b)logs for the Fire: Part 2

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Yesterday, I posted about the details that can emerge if you focus on what is around (or specifically, below) the art on the walls. Here are some more examples of the tiny stories told by the tiny details and embellishments on the fireplaces sprinkled throughout the museum.

blue tile detail

Over eighty ornate blue and white tiles depict scenes of castles, ships, and farmers. Each tile is different from its neighbor, showing the artistry of this work on a fireplace in an upstairs room of the original Phillips house.

secret face detail

Is that a face hidden in the East Parlor fireplace andiron, or just an artful arrangement of leaves?

Roig detail

Bernardi Roig’s An Illuminated Head for Blinky P. (The Gun) cuts off a bright yellow fireplace from closer observation. What other artworks, and what other shoes, have come and gone before this yellow brick fireplace?

Emily Hurwitz, Marketing and Communications Intern

The Music Room: And in this corner…

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Music Room corner post_Emily Hurwitz

The Music Room. Photo: Emily Hurwitz

One of the great things about The Phillips Collection is that even though the space is stationary, the art is not. I started my internship at the Phillips about a month ago. On one of my first journeys through the collection, I found myself staring at The Repentant St. Peter by El Greco, which was then on display in the Music Room. The dark browns of the painting’s background perfectly complemented the rich wood paneling of the room, which made the bright yellows and blues draped around the figure himself seem especially vibrant. He is a contemplative figure, filled with emotion. What a perfect fit for a Music Room—a place that can in and of itself inspire quiet and emotional contemplation, while simultaneously bursting with the vibrancy of a musical work.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I ventured back into the Music Room a few weeks later and found not St. Peter, but Georges Rouault’s Verlaine. And imagine my further surprise when I realized that that painting was also a perfect fit for this corner of the Music Room: not because of the stark background and emotive figure, but because of the brush strokes that captured an almost musical movement, and the figure that seemed like he himself was listening intensely to someone—or something—just outside of the frame. The context of a painting really can inspire an entirely new conversation about the work, and the feeling of the room itself can change depending on what is staring back at you from these walls.

Emily Hurwitz, Marketing and Communications Intern