San Antonio Art Museum

To Uber or not to Uber? From the front door of the Menger the San Antonio Museum of Art is only twenty-three minutes away by foot, and ordinarily it wouldn’t even be a question. We would walk. But the sky hangs heavy over our heads, and the air we breathe is on the verge of turning liquid.

A Bit of History

Five minutes after Uber picks us up we say goodbye to our driver and stand alone in front of a block-long building on Jones Street. The old, old building, formerly the site of the Lone Star Brewery, was built in the late 1800’s to house all of the workings of what a brewery complex needs to make things work. In the 1920’s Prohibition put an end to all of that, and the magnificent old structure went through many transformations till the 1980’s when its doors opened wide as the San Antonio Museum of Art.

Making this discovery, I vacillate between happiness and dismay. Living here through my very early adult years and then returning again and again and again to San Antonio, I can’t believe I did not know about this museum until recently. Only discovering it in July of this year when I read about the exhibition of 500 Years of Spanish Painting from the Museums of Madrid and its location in the San Antonio Museum of Art. The exhibition closes on Sunday, so it is now or never, and we barely have two hours to see it before we are due back for the Texas Historical Symposium’s first lecture.

In Search of the Museum Restaurant

9 a.m. and we are an hour early, the museum does not open until 10:00. The doors are locked, but we are here for breakfast at Tre Tratorria. While I check my phone to see where the museum restaurant is hiding, Michael hunts for signs. He wins.  I follow him as he walks west on Jones street, turns a corner and makes his way down a winding path through the sculpture garden.

When we reach the Luby Courtyard I stop, telling Michael, “This feels like the Maritime Museum in Barcelona. Where we had lunch. Remember?” Almost two years ago—I can’t help but remember. A world away, it was raining that day too.

The old Hops House is on our right and a sign says Tre Trattoria. We are in the right place but it looks like it is locked up tight. The website says they open at eight. I have learned sometimes websites don’t know the whole story. Light in a back window gives me hope.  A silhouette in the window gives me even more. But where is the door? We might as well be back in Europe, wandering around ancient buildings in Spain.  Lost.

Tre Trattoria

We skirt a path along the building’s exterior wall, turning corners, until finally we are standing on a long terrace filled with tables and chairs that overlooks the San Aantonio River. We find the door. Honestly, this doesn’t place doesn’t feel like it is open for business. There is no one here—in any of the interior rooms. Only two lone chefs are visible — not very busy at all.

“Are you open? Can we sit outside?” I ask.

Yes, and yes. The server will be with us shortly. We sit and I smile encouragingly at Michael.  “It seems we can’t go anywhere without being a little lost.  A little discombobulated.” I get the Michael look. Tolerant indulgence.

Checking out my surroundings as we sit waiting for our late breakfast, a city worker along the river waves to me.  Joggers, both men and women, run past.  Bicycles roll along the walkway. A woman pushing a baby carriage takes a morning stroll. A water taxi motors downstream. A city of condos is across from me.

“I could live here,” I say.

I get a raised eyebrow in reply, along with the comment, “All of your stuff wouldn’t fit.  You would have to give it away.” I may have to think about that.

Meanwhile, our server delivers breakfast. Michael goes in search of salt.

“Don’t eat too fast,” I say, “the museum doesn’t open till 10:00.”

The Museum

After breakfast, we make our way through the table filled courtyard toward the back entrance of the Great Hall of the San Antonio Museum of Art and stand in line to purchase tickets for entrance to the museum and the special Spanish painting exhibit. When it is my turn, I look the clerk squarely in the eye and say, “I’d like to purchase a membership for two please.”  I can tell I want to be a part of this place.

Spain: 500 Years of Spanish Painting from the Museums of Madrid

Stepping up into the 7,000 square foot special exhibit space of the Cowdon Gallery I’m greeted with familiar scenes of Spain. Bullfighters. Beautiful senoritas. Gorgeous children. Hero’s. Princes. Kings. Saints. They are painted by old friends. El Greco. Velázquez. Goya. Sorolla. Picasso, and others I am not familiar with.

Along with some of his other paintings, is El Greco’s Head of Christ, a stark and dark Renaissance masterwork, originally seen by me when I was sixteen years old, hanging in a place of honor on a wall of the McNay Art Museum here in San Antonio. How many boyfriends did I drag there to see it? I can’t recall. I only know Michael was the last one I took.  Then it disappeared—a fake I was told. A few years ago, it was back. Rediscovered. Authenticated by the world’s top Grecologist. Re-framed. Continually admired.

I walk from one painting to another. Examining. Admiring. Humbled by the talent. Suddenly I look up at a Murillo, and I am back in Seville at an art gallery in a former convent — a beautiful building. Glorious art.  That was the first time I came face to face with the holy cards of my youth, doled out by the parish priest to happy children as they romped and played in the school yard during recess. Back then I didn’t question the origin of the pictures. It wasn’t until I was well into my adult years that I discovered their source was great art executed by great artists. This Murillo provides me with double memories. It is a small unexpected gift, these memories of mine.

The Greeks and Romans

Appreciation and examination of the Spanish masters at an end, we wander on, stumbling on massive rooms of Ancient Mediterranean Art, discovering that the San Antonio Museum of Art’s collection is one of the largest collections of its type in the southern United States. I feel like I am back in the New York Metropolitan Museum as I spend the remainder of my time lost in the world of Greek and Roman antiquities.

Waiting for Uber to whisk us back to the world of Texas and its history, I realize we have not even scratched the surface of this treasure trove. There are four floors and eleven permanent collections, not counting the special exhibits. I make a promise to myself to come back.  Often. One day a month. One Exhibit each time. Lunch. A walk through the park. Maybe an overnight stay. A perfect plan for the future.

 

San Antonio Museum of Art

200 W. Jones Ave, San Antonio, TX 78215

Collections of this museum include Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Himalayan Indian, Japanese, Chinese Ceramics from both Imperial China and Early China, Oceanic, Near Islamic, Contemporary, American masters, Spanish colonial, Latin American Folk Art, Latin American Modern and Contemporary and Pre-Columbian Art.

Hours

Monday: Closed

Tuesday and Friday: 10:00 a.m. – 9:00 p.m.

Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday: 10:00 a.m. – 5:00 p.m.

FREE General Admission

Tuesdays: 4:00 – 9:00 p.m.

Sundays: 10:00 a.m. – Noon

Free Guided Tours

Tuesdays: 4:30 – 5:30 p.m.

Sunday’s: 11:00 – Noon

Tre Trattoria

The Historic Hops House at the San Antonio Museum of Art, 200 W. Jones Ave., San Antonio, TX 78212

Serving Breakfast: 8:00 – 10:00 a.m., Lunch and Dinner 6 days a week. Click on the Link above to see a copy of their menus.

Hours 

Tuesday – Saturday 8:00 AM – 10:00 PM

Sunday 8:00 AM – 8:00 PM