You may have noticed, sometimes three or four blogs may appear in quick succession and then, I get quiet. It's not that I'm all written out or have nothing to say. There is nothing to say in that moment. I've been trying to write beautiful things to counteract all the ugliness around me. The death and destruction that are gratuitously featured each day on the air and in the press. Some days more successfully than others. I plumb my memories though there aren't as many happy times as you might think there should be.
Always, there is something else. Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to see some work done by a very good friend, who sensing my disquieted soul, allowed me to barge into his space with very little notice. I am hugely grateful, in those moments up in the cocoa, all quiet, dark but not disturbing, I had a moment of peace, where I was happy.
The work was breathtaking. Literally. Each piece making your mouth water for more. I marveled at the infinitesimal attention to detail, each figure beautifully drawn, drawing you in to each story unfolding. It was not for the art dilettante but for the true lover of art who could appreciate the depth and breadth of the pieces. I knew my friend was talented, but I was reminded of how, extremely talented he is and how lucky I felt to be there.
On the ride back into town, the silence in the car lasted for quite a while, until a whoosh of breath. M. who was driving and I could not get the words out fast enough. This is what true art is, the ability to move, stun, question, anger, engender all manner of emotion. I thank my friend, for not giving in to the tide of commercialism that dictates that his work be less "popular" than the sofa art that passes here. And, I thank him for allowing me, to also swim against the tide.
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