Munch's woodcuts were incredible and the exhibition was also good to see because about 3/4 of the work came from private collections. Otherwise, I didn't like it. The ceilings of the space were low and the rooms felt cramped and unorganized, probably because they were connected by dozens of tiny hallways and were spread over three floors. There were also major traffic jams throughout the exhibition because the curators elected to hang huge gobs of wall text in minute passageways, which inevitably led to people standing in the hallways to read the text, prohibiting others from passing. This all culminated in me being repeatedly jostled, which was unpleasant. And they chose a strange shade of dark purple for the walls. Complain complain complain.
This was the first exhibition I attended in France and I learned three things. Firstly, when the French discuss a painting, they do not subtly indicate towards it, but wildly gesture and point at it with great force. Secondly, the elderly women that attend exhibitions here tend to whisper things quietly towards you. You ignore them, as you logically assume they are whispering to themselves until they loudly inquire "Do you agree?" Thirdly, a surprising amount of P.D.A. occurs in exhibitions. In Paris, there is much scandalous P.D.A. everywhere, especially on the metro. I declare exhibition spaces to be the second offender after witnessing a generously aged couple ear snogging in the drawings section of the Munch show.
Oh well. This was my favorite woodcut.
Edvard Munch, Women on the Shore, 1898
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