Withering Glance: Institute is a refuge from the real world

Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.

CP: A trip to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. It's about time we did something cultural that wasn't cheap and shallow.

RN: If we need an excuse to escape from the office, why not a high-minded one? Besides, this glorious refuge from the real world is mostly free.

CP: Since you grew up here, it's easy for me to picture a mini-Rick Nelson, with actual hair, having the mysteries of "Jade Mountain" explained to you during a field trip.

RN: Yes, Young Ricky and his feathered blond mane were all over it. Kind of like how your eyes seem to be boring a hole through that Doryphoros. Those Romans knew how to make marble come to life.

CP: A thing of timeless beauty, it demands to be viewed from every angle. In homage to the sculpture, I resolve to adopt its weight-on-one-leg, or contrapposto, pose at all future cocktail parties.

RN: We're not only nurturing our souls by viewing great art, we're expanding our vocabularies and our social skills. We should come here more often.

RN: Look, there's the Titian, the Rembrandt and the Bourdon That Launched a Thousand Term Papers, also known as "Moses Defending the Daughters of Jethro." I can still hear Prof. Stoughton's erudite voice extolling its virtues.

CP: I think the institute deserves kudos for inserting new pictures among the classics. It can cause a double take, however. Like seeing the two young guys in today's street clothes in a giant Kehinde Wiley painting hung in a Baroque gallery. As a staunch traditionalist, you take a dim view, right?

RN: Hardly. I love discovering new treasures in old places. Just get a load of this 1890 portrait of Minneapolis interior designer John Scott Bradstreet. My goodness, he was awfully grand, wasn't he?

CP: If by "grand" you mean "devoted to decorative arts," definitely.

RN: My guess is that he was a turn-of-the-century poodle-walker. I'm crazy for the MIA's period rooms, especially Bradstreet's artsy-craftsy "Duluth living room." A masterpiece.

RN: A celestial chunk of Post-Impressionism. Still, if this were the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia -- which holds, for starters, 69 Cézannes and 181 Renoirs -- this would be the equivalent of a broom closet. Not that I'm comparing. Jeez, we've been here for almost three hours. Time flies, right? Back to the lobby.

CP: Must we? I can't bear to behold that neon-yellow hanging hairball sculpture by Dale Chihuly one more time.

RN: I hear you. My advice: Don't look up.

E-mail: witheringglance@startribune.com.

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