my experience at the library yesterday

Initially, I started to write the following to preface my research essay about a 17th century artist I've recently discovered, just to provide some context as to how I learned about her. But then it turned into this whole freakin story, and now I think they should be two separate entries. Anyways:

I've been experiencing an uncomfortable amount of free time recently. Work has been super slow, and classes don't start for another month, and it's too damn hot to go on my usual outdoor adventures to random parks and neighborhoods. So my solution has been going to the library. I've spent a copious amount of time in the libraries around New York, with the intent of reading a good book, working on a blog or journal entry, preparing for school, and most importantly, enjoying the AC.

In my hours spent in the cool, dark libraries this week, I've been doing a lot of reading on art history, because I realized: I'm about to major in art history and honestly don't know shit about it. I figured it might be a good idea to gain a slightly stronger understanding of the concept so I can absorb more specific information whilst in school. Usually when I go to the library, I go to the Schwarzman building, the big one in Bryant Park, and I read in the Rose Main Reading Room, where anyone can go to sit and work. But yesterday before I left for the library, I was browsing the NYPL Research catalog and found a couple of books on some artists that I had recently learned about. So I WROTE DOWN the fucking CALL NUMBERS for the BOOKS on a PIECE OF PAPER with my OWN HAND, dude. And then I went to the library, and waltzed through the Rose Main Reading Room, and at the very back of the room is a magical door labeled "Art & Architecture Room" with a sign that says "This room is reserved for researchers with appointments only."

Bullshit, I said, and walked through the door, and up to the reference desk, and said to the gorgeous woman sitting there, "I am so terribly sorry, I don't have an appointment, how dare I barge in on the private haven of intellectuals and disturb their peace. But please miss, I am looking for these specific materials, and I was thoughtful enough to write down their call numbers, so if you would be so generous as to guide me in my journey of art history enlightenment, I will forever owe you my gratitude."

And she said, "Yeah you're all good boo thang. Just gimme 45 minutes and I'll bring the books to you. You're at table 4, seat 29."

So I skipped over to my seat and plopped down. My favorite part about sitting in an art research library is that I'm so curious about what everyone is working on. Are they professors? Archivists? Librarians? Are they researching an artist they found out they're distantly related to? Did they come in just because they have a crush on the woman sitting at the reference desk and want to sit and admire her? As I waited for the librarian to bring me the books, I just sat there and marinated in the feeling of sitting in that room, surrounded by these people with beautiful curious minds working on their projects.

When the librarian brought me the books, the anticipation had gotten to me, and it felt like a goddess had just blessed me with the power of wisdom, and I could request any piece of knowledge and she would so kindly summon it for me. That is probably the most dramatic sentence I've ever written, but knowing that those books had been stored in an extensive archives collection underneath Bryant Park, and somebody took the time to retrieve the books and send them up to the third floor of the library, for me, for free, was pretty fucking cool.

One of the books I requested was about Artemisia Gentileschi, a female painter from 17th century Rome. She was a Caravaggista, a painter who took direct influence from the style of Caravaggio who was a painter known for utilizing dark shadows to create a romantically dramatic style. Her work also reflected the style of her father's, Orazio Gentileschi. Orazio asked his friend Agostino Tassi to be a mentor to Artemisia, and help her with her painting skills. Artemisia, at 17 years old, was raped by Tassi, and Orazio insisted on bringing the issue to the courtroom to ensure that Tassi pay for his crimes and to restore respect to the family name.

Although this was, clearly, a depressing event to read about, I was completely fascinated by the fact that the book (Artemisia Gentileschi: the image of the female hero in Italian Baroque art by Mary D. Garrard) provided the entire dialogue of the rape trial, and scans of primary documents (such as letters between Gentileschi and Galileo!?). I went home and watched a couple of videos about the trial, but it was just so much more immersive to view Artemisia's handwriting, and read the actual words that she said, which have been translated from the original manuscripts of the trial. It just reminded me that the public has access to these incredible databases and collections, and we have the ability to go right to the source (or pretty damn close to it), which is especially important when the information on the Internet is growing further and further from credibility and accuracy. This makes me all the more excited to enter this career field and help researchers find useful materials just like the woman at the reference desk helped me yesterday.

If you're still reading, hi Mom and Dad, and maybe Libby. Love you all!