Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Clarity in those moments.
At the museum, where the two were looking at paintings. They were passing through rooms, well-lit galleries where you can never actually see the source, the fixtures. The one, trying hard, stood in front of a painting, feet steady but leaning forth and then tilting, even though a few rooms back the other said, "That's not how you should look at paintings. You stand here, then you move here, and then here." The one stood before this painting, leaning and tilting in place, and passed over the figures and the colours. The shy flecks of white and pink coming bright when close to the canvas, and laying hidden when distant. This painting was filled with folds that bloomed as shard and sum together. The one saw how the painting sent along line and mood, to where particulars vanished for the whole. It was dazzling. It reached out from its frame, the mounted texture of painted face and brow, and looked upon a room where the two now circled back to each other in its corner. To the next painting, where the other said, "I don't like the colours." And the one said, "Neither do I."
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3 comments:
getting caught up is a bit much.
too much.
do you get caught up?
too much.
I do, too much. Much too much.
I love how weird museums/galleries are. Especially if you're with somebody! It's like you're in this weird godless temple that doesn't quite have all of its rules and deities established properly, apart from the fact of their ambiguous presence. Watching people in museums/galleries is just as fascinating as the works, I find. Because what can you ever really say other than 'I don't like the colors' or 'I like the colors'?
For a long time I wasn't in to Sonic Youth. It was like, 'I don't like the colors, man'. Then Casey made me tell him which Sonic Youth album was the best, so I had to sit my ass down and really listen. I didn't go to the temple (pitchfork.com, allmusic.com, etc.) but instead had to just sit in my house and listen to those records. Just fucking work on it, keep listening, bring myself over to their world. And I made it to their world, and they were really accommodating and sincere, and that made me love them. And when I look back on this recent experience, I think I discover that the effort I made to crack the shell of 'I don't like the colors' is really what I cherish about Sonic Youth, more than their music even. That's what I find to be so weird about art in general: it's always only a challenge for you to go to another world, and you're either up to that challenge or your not. In the end it has very little to do with the work itself.
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