Art Day part I

The other night I dreamt that the pupils of my eyes were the color of liquid mercury...

It might possibly be that I looked at way too much art last Thursday in the city with Nest partner in crime Norma Quintana. But in the dream, it wasn't a bad feeling. It was as if I was glowing from within--filled with the reflections of every piece I had just absorbed, every passion that went into them.

 

The first was the BIGGIE. Frida Kahlo at the SFMOMA-how can you not get excited about this? Frida is one of the most ubiquitous names in modern art (and one of the only women of this stature). Although I was disappointed that the exhibition contained so few large paintings, I was sastisfied with the intimate effect of the small "retablos" and personal photographs. The thing that made the greatest impression on me, was what I overheard in the constantly crowded galleries. Women (mostly) were making comments to their friends and even strangers about the work and Frida's own tragic history. "You know she had polio"..."and that horrible accident". Everyone seemd to know all about Frida. On one hand, it's a shame that there are so few artists that reach this kind of celebrity, and it usually takes a feature film to bring them to the attention of the American public. On the other had, it was just cool to hear so many people get excited about modern art...and invested in the life of one amazing artist. I think we all see in Frida, a woman who faced great suffering, yet never feared to self-expression and always stood out in a crowd.