Art

Since I had some spare time in between meeting friends and eating dinner and whatnot, I googled free events in the city. There was a beautiful thumbnail picture of sculptures at an art gallery called The Silos. So just drove over there to pretend to be cultured and look at art.

Walked in and immediately it's obvious that it is repurposed warehouse. Hard grey concrete everywhere with the ventilation pipes visible on the ceilings and PVC pipes around each corner. It was bare of everything except the frames of art and the floor to ceiling sculptures. It was not at all like a polished art gallery at well known art museums, or even smart art displays for students at colleges or whatnot. Instead it felt very unfinished, rough around the edges, and a display of artists who were waiting for their big break.

Apparently The Silos are individual art studios for independent artists instead of a specific artist showcasing. The thumbnail sculpture that drew me in wasn't even there, but there was still some interesting art. I actually really loved it - less the art and more the experience. Just wandering around the warehouse, cold concrete lined with frames and pieces of art, was just something that made me really think a lot about art and what that means.

How valuable is art, what is the price you would put for these pieces, how hard it is to make a living, and also what exactly constitutes art. Looking at some of the pieces, I was wondering what my basis of judging art came from. Was it - do I like it enough to put on my kitchen wall? or was it - it makes me feel something. or was it - would I pay for it? It was just really beautiful to see the different types of mediums and the sculptures and also just inspiration for art in general. To look at art and wonder if these pieces are parts of their souls and that they have given a bit of it onto canvas - and I sit here and judge it if it's worthy to be on my kitchen wall. Also in another part of my mind, it makes me want to be creative again. What would be the outpouring of my soul onto canvas? Would it be acrylic or oil, would it be hard lines, what would I do.

There is a line in Sunday in the Park with George, a musical based on Georges Seurat's famous pointillism painting called A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, that goes: White: a blank page or canvas.... so many possibilities.

That's what these unknown artists' art reminds me of. That there are so many possibilities. And the cumulative results of all the work is not necessarily the most brilliant or the most wonderful. But surely the striving that came from all that effort is better than just leaving it all blank. Endless possibilities is wonderful, but it is better to try than not.

There are some pieces that I wanted to remember. One was a large drapery that reminded me of those movies of arabian worlds or just the poorer districts of the world where they don't have roofs. Hanging drapes in the corridor of a concrete warehouse, and it makes me think of third world countries. Painted gold paper roses framed, winter trees at night, large globs of paint dripped onto canvas, chess pieces in revolving perspectives, a strange mixture of paint and resin and geometric spirals and figures.

It is art. And art is beautiful.

Halcyon days

What they told me today: stop and smell the roses. sometimes it is the journey that will be greater than the destination. you will get to the end, but if you forget to stop and breathe, then you will have missed out on so much more.

Being in this city makes me nostalgic in a way that the scent of white pear tree blossoms instantly reminds me of my childhood home. Maybe it is all rose-colored lenses. I leave too much of my heart everywhere I go.

I thought I knew what I wanted all this time. And now these days I realize how little I actually know of what I want. And if that's the case, I might as well pause to tip toe through the tulips, sniff a rosebud or two, and go wandering down the bayou.

Tomorrow will be what tomorrow brings. But today, there is just nostalgia, conversation, and boba.

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Strolling through parks and green spaces, drinking coffee at cute coffee shops, talking about everything and nothing, relaxing in a park bench and watching the fluffy white clouds, wandering through art galleries, swinging on children's playgrounds, eating egg tarts and ramen and dim sum and all the food, laughing, swinging in a hammock at a beer garden, wandering through fondy, lying on the 180 to see the stars, getting a massage, window shopping and leisurely exploring the village, reminiscing.

If only life could be like this every day.

Idyllic moments, these halcyon days.
Every day a silver lining.