Egon Schiele…
The fetus and I partook of the Egon Schiele exhibit at the Neue gallery on 86th St yesterday afternoon. Excellent art, and by this I mean all art (movies, writing painting) is judged on par with my desire to create after being exposed to it. To see it all up close and personal, wow. Many of the later larger and more recognizable works were not there. What was there, however, were some 150+pieces, early paintings, and sketches, a lot of the watercolor work with gouache which is his most recognizable work. Rainy days are good for art and movies theaters, I have decided. And one aspect of New York I would have a hard time divorcing is the art exposures. New ideas breathe and breed here. And it’s not about being different much as it seems to be in small towns and other places outside of urban culture. It’s about doing and doing, and exposing and communicating and doing some more until you get it right…right is where you want it. Some day I would love to have one of those homes full of art and huge airy spaces, because it is certainly in my nature to try and surround myself with little pretties.
Yeah, but these are the days, rainy and slightly chilled, that make me fall in love with New York every time. My circulation is so vastly improved I realize I have to check this massage thing out all winter long to avoid the frozen streaked tears that are bountiful when my legs are purple, numb, and basically paralyzed. My massage therapist asked me if I had diabetes, and with my sugar consumption in life, this might be believable, but nah, I just rock purple veiny skin in temperatures below 70.
Rocktober has slid past me like hell on wheels. I’ve been thinking a lot about time, and how rough and strange a concept it is that basically it’s just a flip book of smells sounds, and pictures speeding by, leaving smudges of memory in its wake.
I seriously need to find that digital camera again. There’s so much I need to document. So much I need to share.
Off to brunchilicious and fine delicacies and then new e habitats. I really would love to flush the bad piggies down the toilet for killing the main piggie. But they are slowly learning to eat from my fingers…though they are certainly far from being as smart as my main piggie, huge angelfish.
