freely admitted

I love free admission. That is to say, I love to admit things freely, when the open and more extroverted version of me lets that happen. But really what I mean is that I like getting into places (fancy parties, concerts, dinners, museums) at no cost whatsoever. That is the one benefit of working in a academico-museum context -- a card that lets you pass right on in, that tells the person at the entrance counter that you are going to spend your money on postcards and tea, not on no-damn ticket.

The Art Institute was a nice destination on a cold Saturday, for I., C. and me. There were African pots and fancy french paperweights on the list of things to see... I have to say, 5 months here in Chicago, I still miss Durham a lot. So the fact that I., another former Durhamite, moved here when I happened to, means that when we go to the museum together in the winter it feels vaguely kindred, and good for that.


And art looms. Perhaps it even stalks a little. In blue behind I. and in red behind C. it seems somewhat nefarious, but then how couldn't such simple paintings be? If art reflects life, then I suspect as a person Ellsworth Kelly is probably one of those types constantly looking over others shoulders when they are reading the newspaper.



.....

In the COntemporary gallery a boy knelt in front of a piece by Felix Gonzalez-Torres, a pile of wrapped candy weighing exactly as much as his lover's own body, who had dies of AIDS. Viewers are encouraged to take a piece away with them, so the metaphorical body loses weight as the real one surely must have. But they say museum staff replenish it regularly.

What if our bodies were in fact made wholly of flavored sugar and bright shiny paper? Sometimes it feels like that might actually the case. Maybe save those in your pocket, for later.