Does that sound pretentious? I don't mean to be, so I'll explain.
I've had a really crazy month. Hopefully I'll make myself sit down and write about it at some point, but in the meantime I'll just say that there have been a lot of picnics, out-of-town visitors, boozey nights, and job changes. It's been a fantastic month, with the exception of a few really rough days at the beginning, but as my mom pointed out last night, when she asks how my day was during our nightly check-ins, I tell her I had a really great day 9 times out of 10.
Today started slowly, making apricot jam from yesterday's market purchase. I cooked the apricots down for a while, with brown sugar and lemon juice, and created a delicious jammy goo that I'll try tomorrow on my morning yogurt. Then I headed to my thrice-weekly babysitting/tutoring gig, where the sinfully adorable Natalie dressed up like a pink cat and meowed.
While all of that was nice, the best part of the day, by far, was my evening visit to Beaubourg, or the Pompidou Centre, as it's known to Americans. I went to check out the Kandinsky exhibit, and just loved it. I've always liked Kandinsky, particularly Composition VIII and Yellow-Red-Blue, but this exhibit went much deeper. I already knew I loved his Blue Rider period, thanks to an excellent German expressionist exhibit at Vienna's Leopold Museum a few years back. But this exhibit expanded on his Moscow period, and the works he did at Bauhaus, which were just gorgeous. I kept having to go back and visit them again and again. My favorites were Accent in Pink, Three Sounds (I can't find a good link for it), and Several Circles.
As I was walking through the exhibit, I kept thinking how glad I am that my mom took me to museums as much as she did while I was a kid. My mom's an art dealer, and has worked at some amazing galleries over the past 35 years. I remember her taking me to a Magritte exhibit at MoMA, where I was shocked by his painting, Rape. And I had weekend classes at the Met, where we would study, and copy, Indian illuminated manuscripts, Egyptian statuary, and African masks. I grew up learning about art, and while my mom would explain the artists' lives and inspirations, she never told me what was good or bad, or tried to force her tastes on me. To this day we often disagree on pieces, and I've never felt that I'm wrong, but rather that I have my own developed tastes.
When I came out of the exhibit, and saw the Paris skyline just settling down for the night, I felt calmer than I have in ages. And the phrase "art is my meditation" just popped into my head. I felt so relaxed.
I saw a few other shows recently, that all had the same affect on me. Visiting the Fondation Cartier on the last weekend of the Beatriz Milhazes exhibit meant that the catalogue was sold out, much to my dismay. And the Calder in Paris show at Beaubourg recently closed, but not before I coveted his animal line drawings. I have a few more on my list, namely Planète Parr at the Jeu de Paume, and Bulgarian Icons at the Chateau de Vincennes. I don't know that I'll get to see them all before they close, as I'm leaving town on Saturday, but I'll do my best to cram them in.
I could use a bit more zen before the next two months come barreling in!
This is just a quick public declaration of love for my father.
Dad, it means the world to me to know that whenever anyone tries to fuck with me, you are immediately on the case, ready to defend me and tell me I'm amazing. Having your support, and knowing that I have it, makes the tough times a bit easier to handle.
Also, wine. Wine helps a lot.
