This state cannot continue for long. It's my brain's way of cluing me in that something has got to change. The default accompaniment is a driving desire to get out of the city as soon as may be—also a signal that I need to slow down. A change of pace is in order. Regardless of all the things that need doing, I need to make time for the basics.
Last weekend we finally got ourselves over to the Getty Museum. It was a perfect day (other than the traffic on the 405 which is always horrid): blue skies, cool breeze, no crowds. One of the feature exhibits right now is Jackson Pollack's Mural. I've been wanting to see a Pollack painting in person for quite a while; I'd long ago decided this was the only way to have a proper opinion on his work. Would it feel chaotic? elementary? inspired?
My 13yo daughter (the artist) and I walked into the room where it was hung and our breath was taken away. Inspired. No doubt about it. There is so much life in that painting that it kind of made me want to cry. That is art. That is the reaction I hope to find when I open a book. It really doesn't look like much on screen, but when you get a little closer it is pretty incredible.
|(want to know more about this painting? click here)|
So, I haven't been doing too much reading lately, and I've desperately wanted to escape to my beloved NorCal mountains, but I'm finding my way through. I've been forcing myself to sleep more and reminding myself that school is almost out for summer break. Before long, the craziness of rebuilding a huge house will be winding down, and I'll be able to breathe, to read, to write.