Wednesday, May 19, 2010


On Monday from 1:00pm until about 4:00pm was my art day. I have been working so much over the past few months and so I was due for a break. After about 9 years, I finally understand how many jobs I need to take on per week, how much money I need to make per month in order to cover my overhead: quarterly tax payments, apartment, studio, operation costs, and a few other necessary monthly items. Staring at the computer day in and day out, working my mind to try to come with concepts, moving from thumbnail to rough sketch to tight sketch to final can be exhausting sometimes. That said, these are not complaints at all, only truths about my profession.
So when I finished a deadline on Monday afternoon, I thought that it would be best to finally head into the city to see some art.

Feed my eyes.
Feed my soul.
If I have nothing going in
Then I have nothing pouring out.

I have been dying to see William Kentridge's exhibit at the MOMA; fortunately I caught it on the last day. It was magical, and I believe I spent almost 2 hours inside this one exhibit, not speaking to anyone, but just in awe, absorbing everything around me, sound, image, movement. I finally had a chance to see the scenes from "The Magic Flute"; the opera that he designed was presented as a scaled down model, in one of the rooms, with audience seating in front of it. It was a convivial mix of pattern, line, light, and dark, pictures smudged and scrawled metamorphosing into one thing or another into blackness and then at one point interacting with Kentridge, himself. On display was some of his large and small drawings, monoprints, and etchings; some as-is, and others part of the pictures used to create his stop-motion animation. The last image is one of Kentridge interacting with his drawings.
Also at the MOMA was Marina Ambramović's performance, "The Artist Is Present." I wasn't sure of what to expect because I didn't do any prior research before heading to the museum, but what I saw was quite powerful. The artist sat there in her creamy white gown and just stared into the person seated across from her. She resembled a statue, stoic and gorgeous. Part of me thought about wanting to ask how I could participate, but the idea of doing so intimidated me. It's strange to look into someone's eyes , or rather have them look into mine, without softening into any type of expression, except to remain still. The idea that someone can see my soul if they stare hard enough into my eyes, feels very real at that moment. I tried it once about 2 weeks ago, and it made me very uncomfortable. Ambramović's performance lasts for the entire 3 months (the duration of the exhibition) during the hours that the museum is open.

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