Apple

So, I return from New York straight into hell. Where it was snowing (and subsequently frozen), no less. But seriously, though, this will unfortunately be a token blog post where I say nothing of significance, because I am busy beyond my wildest imagination. It's almost as if I should've stayed home and done my homework over reading break. It would've been nicer on my wallet, too, in two ways. One, I could've worked (yaaay money), and b, I wouldn't have been in NYC spending so much (booo money). Still, though, I'm really glad I went. It was an incredible experience, and I learned a lot and broadenified my horizons. I even saw a homeless guy peeing against the side of a fancy downtown building.

Ok, highlights... The Blue Man Group. Incredible. Absolutely mind-blowing. I thought I went for the music. But it turned out that it was one quarter music, one quarter visual fiest, and two parts a mix of... comedy, theater, social commentary, performance, interaction... It was one hell of an experience. The theater was wonderfully small, too. I got a seat in the front row of the balcony which was maybe 20 feet from the stage. It was super intimate. Overall it was just... Marvelous.

The other main highlight was the Museum of Modern Art. The first three floors were kinda okay, and then I got to the fourth where they had most of the paintings, and was blown away. I was kinda underwhelmed by Picasso's stuff. Monet's Water Lilies were incredible - not only the incredible scale, but the expressiveness and colour application across such a massive area. The pointillism stuff by Seurat was mind boggling - it must've taken such patience, precision, and complete genius of colour theory to pull it off. Van Gogh's Starry Night was on display also. I managed to get up close, and before a museum attendant ushered me back, I caught a glimpse of how incredibly thick and contoured the piece was. Not even remotely flat. The jewel of the show though, was sitting by the elevators, almost like a piece of filler. I rounded the corner, and hanging on the wall was Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth. I honestly did a double-take. None of the other big pieces seemed to have this effect. I stood there and thought, "Wait, what? That's just gotta be a reprint or something." Which, considering I was standing in the Museum of Modern Art, would be absolutely ridiculous. Yes, as if one of the greatest contemporary art museums on the planet would display prints. But I digress.

I stood there, and I lingered with Christina in her World for a solid 15 minutes. Just... Stood there. Totally absorbed in it. The details were so minute and so absolutely crisp. Birds flying away from the barn. A pair of pants on the line. Individual boards on the house. It was all there. And it all came together to be so beautiful and moving. You could practically smell the wind and feel the grass swaying along. I could hear her sigh.

How do you put a feeling like that into words? I wish I knew how. I wish I was a poet. I wish I could take what's inside of me and and present it in a way that could be experienced by the world that I'm a part of. Instead of being stuck with thoughts and ideas and emotion destined to only ever be exhibited to a party of one. I wish.
-Cril

Bonobo - Black Sands