It's time, now that I've had a full night of sleep, to recount the fun of Wednesday. After D&D, which was worthy of a comic - an idea that Ali and I are quite keen on producing - Ali and I retired to her room where she showed me many of her sketchbooks, and then I showed her my demo reel. She was quite excited about it, which was very nice, and it was much fun sharing art and ideas, and talking in grand terms of the future. Sleep was good, especially since she didn't steamroller me again, but not quite as long as I would have liked, since we went to bed very late, and I didn't want to sleep through my last day.

Ben was kind enough to loan me five bucks to see me through the day, and I headed to the Art Museum of Philadelphia, a fine, classically styled, established museum of no mean proportions. I think it is the best museum I've ever attended, or one of. I went into rooms I hadn't been before, for instance the armoury - WOW, only making limited use of the map as I rather enjoy being surprised, so some of the exhibits I found were ones I'd seen last year, but others were quite new and exciting. I happened into the temporary Barnett Newman exhibit, which isn't something I normally would have sought out, as he's one of those stripes-on-canvas artists from the '50s and '60s and I have little in the way of patience for such things... normally. I found myself in a large, sparse, pure hall, with enormous windows with white gauze over them, and fourteen or so equally massive canvases hanging on the vast walls. It was his "Stations of the Cross", in its entirety. I've seen a lot of art portraying the Passion, in many styles, but never in my life have I been so moved as I was by this one. He used the canvas in its natural state as a colour which he juxtaposed with black and white in lines, some rough, some smooth, that ran vertically over the broad pieces. It was so simple, so meditative...

That was not the only awesome surprise I beheld, either. I found, to my utter joy, one particular piece that I've studied many times in various classes. It was Roger van der Weyden's Crucifixion Diptych, which was painted around 1460. You can find it here, but they list it as separate left and right panels. Irritating. Anyway, I was happily stroling through some early Renaissance works of both Northern and Southern styles, when I turned a corner and passed through a salvaged piece of gothic cathederal only to be stopped dead in my tracks by this awesome work. It hangs alone on a section of wall that rises from the centre of the room in which it is located, with stools sitting before it should the viewer wish to contemplate it. The first thing that struck me was the awesome intensity of the red drapery that hangs behind each character set. Then I realised what I was beholding. It was so much larger than I'd imagined it could be, and it was completely breath-taking. There was no one in the room but a security guard so I wept in solitude. The power of the work, in person, was awe-inspiring. The magnificence was unbelievable. No work has ever made me weep. Especially beautiful animation has, at times, been known to cause such a response, but never before a painting. Words cannot express how I felt.

I bought half of the books offered on the sales table, and then quite spontaneously, I bought a student membership ! I figure, I've been there twice in a year, and if I can make it back once more, I'll get my money's worth. There's a massive Degas exhibition coming next winter/spring, so perhaps I'll make it for that one. I chatted with the women at the membership desk, and every one of them was Jewish. Crazy, in fact, one was telling me that their new Rabi was a woman who comes from Toronto. Nifty. Anyway, I returned to Ben's and proceded to pack my bags. Ali decided she would treat me to dinner, though I'd planned to treat them thanks to the Master of the Card, but she didn't let me. We went to a retro-styled malt/burger joint where we had excellent milkshakes and slightly less excellent burgers. Following that, we hoofed it to the station, and let me tell you, this was a lot of walking considering we were alternating my luggage full of artbooks and covering many, many blocks in very warm weather.

The busride home was long, but not obnoxiously so, and I finished my excellent book, Anne Bronte's "Tenant of Wildfell Hall", which so engrossed me that I lost four hours of bus time to flipping its pages. I also slept on and off quite a bit more than I did on the way down. My only complaint rests at Canadian Customs where the officers were officious and assholey beyond any good reason. I am pleased that I'm a citizen and white of skiin at times like that. They took quite a bit longer than we'd expected, so it was a good thing that the bus was only half full. I had the pair of seats to myself the whole trip and I was able to roll myself up and sleep with some level of comfort. Upon arriving in Toronto, I went straight to Heretic and slept for an hour and a half in the changerooms before working my full eight hours. Following that, I couldn't yet go home to sleep. No, I went to Julie's in order to celebrate her 70th birthday ! Mom was there, but sadly suffering from a migraine, but otherwise, thanks to renewed energy in the form of a fifth and sixth wind, I had quite an animatedly fun time. I hope my mom's feeling better today.

Tonight, Rick's taking me to the opera. I'm looking forward to it.