The Metropolitan Museum of Art is one of the those places that confounds the senses. I was coming back from the bathroom after lunch in the cafeteria downstairs and wandered into the Lehman Wing and found myself standing with my mouth agape by virtue of a painting in an exhibit of the Met's collection of Venetian paintings. Christ! I thought. The colors are incredible! Was it cleaned to death or merely restored to its vibrant self? The tour guide wasn't there so I couldn't ask.
The angel (is it an angel, no?) is pondering something besides a virgin birth. don't you think?