I grew up exuberant in body but with a nervy, craving mind. It was wanting something more, something tangible. It sought for reality intensely, always as if it were not there... But you see at once what I do. I climb.
-John Menlove Edwards "Letter From a Man".
I packed some basic stuff and walked over to the nearest subway station, hopped on the M train which took me all the way to the main island, changed lines, and popped out some blocks before Central Park.
I trudged merrily, as tourists often do, taking mental pictures of funny street scenes while making imaginary parallels with other well known Norman Rockwell paintings I really enjoy seeing.
I got to the Guggenheim by foot, and was once again blown away by Frank Lloyd Wright's ingeniously ever evolving facade. I thought of the Nautilus as I scratched my eardrum hole, and entered the void.
JAMES TURRELL. BAM!
There's nothing left to say.
PERIOD. END CREDITS. THANK YOU FOR READING.
(But I'll add some other words, just for the sake of it). It's always better to encounter art in the flesh, I think, for it feels nice to actually witness the stuff you've been studying/reading about for so long. It becomes an inherent truth attached to the feel and meaning of that particular moment in your day's perception-repertoire.
I won't ruin it for you, either way it's something gets under your skin in a way that's impossible to portray in written form. Therefore I urge you to go see this guy's work if he's ever in town (actually I think there's one of his pieces in the MUAC, in Mexico City). You won't regret it.
After almost swooning and mopping the floor with my tongue (out of pure fascination) I decided to pay MoMA a rapid visit. Which was nice, and for free! I have to say I felt rather proud of seeing a couple of paintings by the famous Mexican muralists Orozco and Siqueiros, which were exhibited in one of the main rooms (I 'm not the patriotic sort, necessarily, but it's nice to see your fellow countrymen's work being displayed in prestigious institutions... but then again, SCREW the institutions! Sorry, I'm a bit in a bipolar mood today).
At night I met Iv for a discrete beer in the park, and then phoned my friend Ju, whom I met in Zambia while backpacking and volunteering with my friend Re. We crashed her lovely apartment and shared yet another fantastic conversation regarding a myriad of topics from which they both knew quite a lot. We exchanged views on books and other references on immigration and fracking as we gulped down another beer on her lovely terrace. After a couple of hours of intense mind syncing we decided to head back "home". Boy, do I love passionate people who actually CARE about things other than earning enough dough in order to afford the latest Iphone. It makes me feel as if there's still hope in being alive.
*Faith in humanity restored, Will Robinson*
-John Menlove Edwards "Letter From a Man".
I packed some basic stuff and walked over to the nearest subway station, hopped on the M train which took me all the way to the main island, changed lines, and popped out some blocks before Central Park.
I trudged merrily, as tourists often do, taking mental pictures of funny street scenes while making imaginary parallels with other well known Norman Rockwell paintings I really enjoy seeing.
I got to the Guggenheim by foot, and was once again blown away by Frank Lloyd Wright's ingeniously ever evolving facade. I thought of the Nautilus as I scratched my eardrum hole, and entered the void.
JAMES TURRELL. BAM!
There's nothing left to say.
PERIOD. END CREDITS. THANK YOU FOR READING.
(But I'll add some other words, just for the sake of it). It's always better to encounter art in the flesh, I think, for it feels nice to actually witness the stuff you've been studying/reading about for so long. It becomes an inherent truth attached to the feel and meaning of that particular moment in your day's perception-repertoire.
I won't ruin it for you, either way it's something gets under your skin in a way that's impossible to portray in written form. Therefore I urge you to go see this guy's work if he's ever in town (actually I think there's one of his pieces in the MUAC, in Mexico City). You won't regret it.
After almost swooning and mopping the floor with my tongue (out of pure fascination) I decided to pay MoMA a rapid visit. Which was nice, and for free! I have to say I felt rather proud of seeing a couple of paintings by the famous Mexican muralists Orozco and Siqueiros, which were exhibited in one of the main rooms (I 'm not the patriotic sort, necessarily, but it's nice to see your fellow countrymen's work being displayed in prestigious institutions... but then again, SCREW the institutions! Sorry, I'm a bit in a bipolar mood today).
At night I met Iv for a discrete beer in the park, and then phoned my friend Ju, whom I met in Zambia while backpacking and volunteering with my friend Re. We crashed her lovely apartment and shared yet another fantastic conversation regarding a myriad of topics from which they both knew quite a lot. We exchanged views on books and other references on immigration and fracking as we gulped down another beer on her lovely terrace. After a couple of hours of intense mind syncing we decided to head back "home". Boy, do I love passionate people who actually CARE about things other than earning enough dough in order to afford the latest Iphone. It makes me feel as if there's still hope in being alive.
*Faith in humanity restored, Will Robinson*
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