There are those places, aren't there, that remind us that life is bigger and better than we knew, so much lovelier than the day's headlines lead us to believe. I am reminded of that in the sweeping corn and sunflower fields just outside of town in New Paltz, New York in very late summer and on the thicket of streets off Broadway in the village in New York and whenever I visit the Yale Art Gallery. On our way here and there, I stopped in today and the gallery, newly renovated and teeming with art, was packed.

Everywhere I turned there was something: mosaic fragments from a Roman floor from the early third century, Edward Hopper's painting of that door that opens to a blue sea, the scratchy lines of Cy Twombly, the evening glow of Van Gogh's "Night Cafe," the colors of Kandinsky and Gauguin. There was the sweeping view of Mount Katahdin in Maine by Frederic Edwin Church and in the corner of the piece, a boy sitting under a tree, looking out at an endless vista.

Sculptures, sketches, works in jade and wood, watercolor, pastel and bits of glass, collected and curated and there waiting for us. People leaned in close to some paintings, staring in silence. A sculpture just inside the entrance to the gallery had a sign that said `touch carefully' and a little boy did. 

All over the streets of New Haven, the vibe was the same:  look at this! As if we hadn't seen this life before. The coffeeshops and bookstores were full to brimming with people studying and meeting up. They were stopping in for carrot cake at Claire's or holding hands as they walked down Chapel Street; they pushed strollers, walking along in the cool March air. 

A guy in a Yale Glee sweatshirt and a bunch of his friends sang together as they made their way along York Street, harmonizing all the way down the block.



http://artgallery.yale.edu/pages/whatisart/whatisart.php