Los Angeles is beautiful, full of magical promises, but you must approach it much like a spoiled movie star: admire it, but don’t open your heart to it. Los Angeles is a tough city and does not forgive mistakes. Only in places like the Getty Center can I truly be myself.
A hot Los Angeles morning. We were promised that this summer would be long, hot, and dry. But it turned out to be long, cold, and rainy. The promised scorching summer finally caught up with Los Angeles only in the fall, on October 9th. I get into my convertible and, keeping the top down to avoid the heat, I drive through heavy traffic to the Getty Center, Los Angeles’s museum of art. Just 10 minutes—and I will disappear into this crazy city.
The Getty Center is one of the two museums (the other is the Getty Villa) in the famous museum complex founded by J. Paul Getty. The Getty Center opened in the Santa Monica Mountains, a suburb of Los Angeles, in 1997. On the approximately 500 square meters of land, the museum includes exhibition halls, gardens, research and environmental institutes, the Getty Foundation, and the administrative office of the Getty Trust. Architecturally, the Getty Center is a magnificent example of contemporary art.
Ten minutes—and I’ve arrived. The cool elevator takes me from the underground parking garage to the surface, and a small tram carries me up the hill. At the entrance, a cheerful elderly Asian woman hands out lecture schedules to visitors. For some reason, I take a map of the complex, though I know it by heart. I begin my journey at the North Building—and immediately enter a hall showcasing the fantastic beauty of 15th-century European stained glass windows.
Stained glass appeared in ancient times. The most talented craftsmen of small colored glass items were found in both Egypt and Rome. Early Christian churches (from the 4th and 5th centuries) still contain delicate alabaster set into wooden frames, creating a stained-glass effect. However, the true art of stained-glass windows flourished during the medieval period, and its main purpose was to illustrate biblical stories in churches.
Initially, even colorless glass was very expensive, but by the end of the 15th century, it became more accessible, and was used for windows, sometimes inlaid with fragments of colored stained glass. In the photograph, the stained glass was likely created for a private house.
The photo depicts the suicide of Lucretia, dated 1561. This Swiss stained glass window illustrates the story of the Roman heroine Lucretia, a virtuous wife. The stained glass was created by Carl von Eggeri, one of the most outstanding Swiss glass artists of the mid-16th century.
The stained-glass windows are mesmerizing. The light filtering through the colored glass draws the eye and creates a new reality that you want to linger in. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice another—The Virgin with the Child. This is my favorite stained glass in today’s exhibition. It is dated around 1335, and the artist is Austrian Master of Klosterneuburg, one of the most recognized medieval glass artists. This stained glass was once an architectural element of the Klosterneuburg Abbey, located in a suburb of Vienna.
I immerse myself in the moment, appreciating the tenderness and subtlety with which the artist depicted the image. The little Christ blesses his mother, the Virgin, with his right hand, while his left gently touches her chin. In her eyes, there is both joy and sadness… One last look—and I move on. From the world of stained-glass paintings to the world of glassware.
I am now in the European glass and ceramics hall from the 1400s to 1700s. It turns out that in the field of decorative glass and ceramics, we owe a lot to the technological advancements of the Islamic Middle East between 800 and 1335. Active trade in the Mediterranean and the rise of urban living and an affluent middle class in Europe led to the incredible popularity of glassware. By the 15th century, Italian craftsmen not only mastered the art of glass decoration but also developed their unique styles and techniques.
I get lost in the play of light in the amazing engravings. Northern European glass is green, thick, and has the beautiful color of the sea. This unusual color came from the impurities of iron used to make the glass. The “spikes” on the surface of the glass are called “prilepi” and were meant to make it easier to hold. Because of their appearance, these glasses were nicknamed “koceryzhki.” These particular glasses were widely used in Germany.
I briefly admire the brightly colored glazed dishes from Central Europe. My attention is caught by Venetian glass. It seems like I am seeing samples of Venetian glass from such ancient times for the first time. Venice has been an important center for glass production since the late Middle Ages. By the early 16th century, Venetian glassblowers used the technologies of ancient Roman craftsmen, creating glass so colorless, pure, and transparent that it resembled crystal. In one of the illustrations, the way light plays off the facets of the glass is visible, and this is just simple glass! The creation of transparent glass required a complex purification process that removed any colored particles, typically a brownish-green hue that naturally occurs in glass. Venetians also produced colored opaque glass and soon became world leaders in the production and decoration of glassware.
The last stand in this hall, which I observe with curiosity, is dedicated to glassware with diamond engraving. The diamond engraving technique also belongs to an Italian master, Vincenzo di Angelo del Gallo, who lived in the mid-15th century. This technique was used to engrave delicate patterns on glass, called “cristallo” – a type of glass specially created to resemble crystal. Although any stone harder than glass could be used for engraving, most engraving tools had diamond tips. Diamonds at that time had just begun to be imported from India.
Once again, I glance at the cups and vases glistening in the light and move on to the hall where an exhibition of illuminated manuscripts from Belgium and the Netherlands is held. By the mid-15th century, Dutch books were widely known and popular across Europe, leading the European market. These special illuminated books were created for princes, counts, cardinals, bishops, and other wealthy individuals. An illuminated manuscript differs from an ordinary one in that it contains incredibly beautiful illustrations, frames, initials, and text painted with natural pigments, giving the illustrations rich and deep colors. Gold and silver were also used in the illustrations. But let the illustrations speak for themselves. After all, they are called “illuminated” because they seem to glow from within…
I was just about to move to another building when my gaze was drawn to the drawing hall. I noticed people drawing and remembered a small ad at the entrance: “Come to our drawing hall and draw your masterpiece!” I couldn’t miss such an opportunity. I was given paper, pencils, and an eraser for free—and sat down in front of two busts—and began to draw. I drew a man, thinking he was some prince or nobleman, and became so engrossed in it that only halfway through did I notice the sign describing the two busts: “Sisters.”
After finishing my “masterpiece,” I received it rolled up with a stamp “Made at the Getty Center” and headed to my last destination—the Central Garden of the Getty. I walk on the heated beige stone and remember how once I was told about the travertine stone from which the Getty Center was built. Travertine is a sedimentary rock. The Romans used it widely, including for the construction of the Colosseum. At sunset, travertine “glows” in incredible colors; it is so beautiful that everyone visiting Los Angeles should see it.
I take a photo of the rough travertine and run into the garden. The Getty Garden was designed by artist Robert Irwin, who called his creation “a sculpture in the form of a garden.” Two three-level paths converge at a small plaza. A stream flows down the hill and falls into a small pool. In the pool, an amazing figure made of azaleas floats on the water, resembling a labyrinth. The garden itself contains over 500 plant species, and its composition constantly changes.
The winding path between the flowerbeds, like a labyrinth, leads me to the azalea maze and gets lost again among the flowerbeds. I am dizzy from the heat, the scent of a thousand roses, and almost fall into the simple, almost Russian daisies, dissolving a bit in this paradise, undoubtedly losing the tension of the past days, and leaving the garden, climbing to the source of the stream—another waterfall on the hill.
There I stop to look again from the top of the hill down into the valley. From the Getty Center, you can see not only the Pacific Ocean and all of Santa Monica, which lies at the foot of the hill, but also Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, and even, on a clear day, the San Bernardino Mountains, which are about 100 kilometers away from the Getty Center. The view of the Pacific Ocean makes everything inside calm. I stop. For a moment. For an instant. Just to be. Just to be myself.
Here’s another interesting moment: in the museum’s stores, they sell works by famous artists—Van Gogh, Degas, Monet, Da Vinci, and others—at somewhat inflated, but still accessible prices.