Art
begets art. Nothing speaks more profoundly to a writer than a modern art
exhibit. I’ve seen some Picassos before, but the selection at the Museum of
Modern Art is astounding – particularly “Girl Looking in a Mirror,” and “Dream
of Undie,” or something like that. Brilliant mauves and yellows. Beautiful
browns.Then there are the giant Matisses “The Dance.” “The Red Studio.” Marco
took lots of photos.
Carol
Bove’s sculpture “Equinox,” (a display that fills an entire room), was the most
captivating piece I saw. The textures of driftwood, steel, painted piping,
feathers, seashell, glittery curtain, and a decomposing mattress created
surprises at every turn.
We
began the morning walking on the High Mile and thinking about James Barilla’s
book My Backyard Jungle. There are some beautiful views of the water
from that walk, as well as some astounding construction. Construction workers
were hooked precariously to enormous bunches of steel “cages” where the
concrete will be poured. It’s supposed to be a housing hi-rise by Spring 2014,
right next to the High Mile.
Last
night, the unnamed, pukey film festival featured a film by Jill McTwattlebum
(not her real name) that spent a lot of time whining. “My mother punched me
around, so I need to become a second rate boxer to get over it,” etcetera.
Getting a job that pays money might be a better kind of therapy at 40.
What
interested me was Jill’s prior career as a pole dancer. She wrote a stage play
based on the gyrating dancers that got good reviews. Then she made this film
about herself, PTSD and boxing. Jill did a pretty good job of extracting
stories from female boxers – stories with beginnings, middles, and ends.
Unfortunately they all dealt with physical abuse. Jill’s husband had the best
line – “I gave up Tai Kwan Do because after getting hit in the stomach a few
times, I figured, I have an MBA, so I don’t need this.” Well said, Gary.
Getting beaten up is a young person’s sport.
Writing
the play allowed Jill McTwaddle to do a pretty good job of editing the film.
Which shows once again that art produces art.
The
trip to MOMA inspired me to work on my stage play, Bermuda
while Marco is shopping at the stereo store in some kind of acoustical heaven.
Tomorrow
– Broadway.
I love your descriptions of NYC. They are like a living travelogue. You manage to get the frantic, urgent, colorful vibe just right.
ReplyDelete