Taiven Parmiga

Chapter 19: The Museum

Evan pulls into a parking space. I had just enough time to shower, get dressed, and eat some of my amazing breakfast. We walk up to the front and the sky looks cloudy.

"Is it supposed to rain today?" I ask Evan, looking up at the sky already growing dark when it's not even noon yet.

"I think so. Maybe a little rain in the next couple of hours. But no storms until later tonight." He reports casually.
We continue walking and as we reach the front doors, a lady in uniform welcomes us with a smile. Evan tells her the name, Peters, and she hands us our tickets and a brochure of the different rooms. The first room we enter is a deep brown with golden framing and accents.
It's an object painting room, according to the map. We glance around at the artwork. There's everything from your basic bowl of fruit to a skull sitting on a fountain in the dark, grim streets of New York.
The tour whizzes by in a blur of different colors, shapes, tour guides, camera flashes, and jazzy background music behind it all. The final room we enter, Evan stops me before we walk in.

"Taissa. I want you to mentally prepare yourself for this." Evan looks at me dead serious. I get nervous, but more curious, as I reply.

"Why? What is it?" I ask.

"This is the new part of the gallery I thought would be your favorite. It's the whole reason why we're here. It's the only reason I thought you might like coming here." He shoves all the words out at me in an excited blur.

"Okay, but what is it?" I ask through a small laugh.

"It's called...
The Psychology Ward of Art."

There's a long pause of silence. I have to think first. Then I realize what it is. I remember telling him one day on set how much I loved Psychology Artwork.
Instantly the excitement begins to rapidly grow inside me. I give him a huge smile and my whole body starts to shake. He smiles back at me, obviously relieved at my excitement.

"Well, don't get TOO hopeful. We haven't gone it yet. It could all be shit. I have no clue." He tells me, trying to make sure I'm not getting excited only to be let down.

"I guess we'll just have to find out for ourselves." I smile even bigger and we walk into the room.

It's a deep red. The lighting is dim. From the moment we step into the room, there's a very serious vibe. Very mysterious and almost eerie.
And I love it. I can tell he does too.
We start to walk around. There's about 35 or 40 paintings just in this one room. They all have velvet ropes around them and a small headlight above them.
Some of the art is painted.
Some is drawn with pencil or crayons or even markers.
Some of it is painted with mud, dirt, clay, dyes. Anything you can possibly think of that would leave a mark.
The possibilities are endless.
Some of the artwork, I recognized. I told Evan about them as we passed. I told him the myths, the values, the beliefs, and the stories behind them. We talked about what the painter seemed to be trying to express. What emotions he was trying to show. The feelings that were trapped inside that could only be escaped on canvas.
After a while, we come across a very familiar painting.

"Wait a minute. I know this painting." Evan tells me with a smile.
"Who doesn't!" I reply half jokingly and half serious.
We gave up at Vincent Van Goghs
Starry Night.

"Yeah, but why is it in here? Shouldn't it have been in the
Well-known section of the Museum?" He turns to me, with great confusion in his voice.

"You've never heard the Starry Night story?" I ask in shock.

"No...tell it to me." He smiles down on me. I smirk and start to speak.

"In December of 1888, Van Gogh had a mental breakdown. He self mutilated his left ear. Afterwards, he voluntarily admitted himself into the Saint-Paul-de-Mausol lunatic Asylum the next year in May.
Apparently, it was an Asylum for more wealthy people. Due to the fact that there was more than enough room, Van Gogh got a large room on the bottom floor where he was able to continue painting. He had tried 20 times before the capture a starry night sky painting, but was never successful.
Then, sometime between June 16 and 18 of 1889,
The Starry Night
was born."
I pause from my story and watch Evan gawk at me. His eyes practically bug out of his head in awe. But that's the effect Starry Night has on people.
"The doctors at the Asylum later determined that the view depicted in his picture was in fact from his bedroom window facing East. He wrote to his brother, Theo, saying,
Through the iron-barred window, I can see an enclosed square of wheat, above which, every morning, I watch the sun rise in all its glory... "

I pause the let the effect set in.

"Wow. That is seriously amazing." Evan tells me as he looks back to the painting.
I look up at it with him. I stare at its amazing colors and techniques. The swirls, the strokes, the patterns. It's breathtaking to me.

Soon, we are headed to the exit and back to the car.

"Well that was pretty amazing. Now I can say I've been to an art museum. With a professional art Fanatic." He looks over and laughs.

"Seriously though. Thank you for bringing me here. It's already a great start to another day we get to spend in this awesome city together." I tell him.

"Alright, Ms. Taissa Farmiga." He turns the key, puts the car in drive, and looks over at me. "Are you ready to eat some amazing sandwiches?"
We pull out of the parking lot and back onto the road.
I look over with a smirk and reply,

"As long as I'm paying."