Yesterday, I went with the Art Club down to the High Museum in Atlanta, Georgia. On the way down, I sat in the window seat on the bus and a pretentious – egotist bloke sat beside me. He blabbered on about different pieces we were going to be observing and buttered up one of the instructors in the seat directly in front of us, while I mutely sat and read the New Yorker. It was a pleasant trip filled with laughter.

After we arrived, all of us entered the Louvre section of the museum. We were all captivated and awe struck by “The Tiber” and other gorgeous sculptures and pieces from France, Roma, Greece, Egypt, Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Babylon. Chills rained down my back, while gazing at clay tablets over four thousand years old. I pondered about the people that crafted the pieces and the lives they lived.

The “Winged Victory of Samothrace” bewitched my spirit. The implied motion – how the fabric of the garment flows over the body of Nike, the goddess of Victory. And, most importantly, the story behind the sculpture. Most of the students put on headphones, which told them about each sculpture, piece, or painting, but I chose to read the plaques and interpret everything in my own way. That is what I love the most about art and literary works. We can each interpret a novel or a painting differently.

Another sculpture that called to me was “Crouching Aphrodite”, from the Roman Imperial period. I kneeled down beside it and glared into her face – a countenance weighed with thought. Sculptures from the Hellenistic period have always captured my imagination, while paintings from the Romanesque era enchant my intellect. Of course, I love all art, regardless of when it was created. However, pop art unnerves me a bit.

Go boil some water for a cuppa because this is long, or you can enjoy the pictures below. I have to write a paper about my visit, so this is good practice…

After exiting the Louvre hall, we entered the contemporary hall. Hanging on the first wall, adjacent to the entrance, were a few silhouette images – black cutouts against a white background – in a row, by Kara Walker. Some of her drawings are quite compelling, but her cutouts are an atrocity. She depicts scenes of slaves in the pre civil war south, being brutalised by their respective owners. She shows white men raping slaves (young men and women) and white women pillaging the wombs of female slaves. She does this to push society’s buttons. That is how she has made a name for herself! It’s not by the quality or composition of the artwork, but the horror it projects. Look, every society at one point, has been enslaved by a more powerful civilisation, so I say, get over it! Did I say I didn’t like her?

Anyway, back to the artsy Californian that I sat beside on the bus. Whilst standing in front of Kara Walker’s pieces, he said, “Isn’t she fantastic”, with hyper glee.

“Yes, she is”, I replied, as glared at the horrific scenes.

“I love how she uses these slavery images”, he uttered, while making hand gestures at the particular way she depicted blood gushing.

I don’t like her, but I was trying to hold back my judgements and be nice to the guy. Heck, I might have learned something from him.

“Yeah, there was about an eight page write up about her in the New Yorker two months ago.

He stopped dead in his tracks, dropped his jaw, and enquired, “You…read the New Yorker?”

“Indeed”, I answered, with a laughing smirk.

He stepped back, put his arms to the side, and muttered, “You must have borrowed it from someone, right?”

“I have a subscription to that along with New York Times, New York Review of Books, and Contemporary Poetry Review”, I muttered, as I tried not to laugh.

“You?”

“Tis true”

“….I never would have thought it, just being honest and all”, he mumbled, as he crossed his arms.

“Ehhmm…Yeah, I’m a photographer, aspiring poet, amateur author (I have much to learn), professional skirt chaser, and I dab in watercolours and pastels from time to time”, while glinting at the young female art student beside me.

He fell back on his heels, and cried, “Wow, that is totally cool…I never would have thunk it…Dude, I’m like…totally blown away. Do you have any of your poetry with you or some photographs?”

There’s no need to go any further into the discussion. He asked if I did architecture, nature, surreal, abstract, impressionistic, or portraits. I gave him my flickr address and the blog address. So, if you are reading this, sir, I’m not trying to imply that you are an idiot or a jerk, just a Californian. Nah, most Californians are cool. Dude is smart. He went to the Art Institute of Chicago. We are all taught at an early age how to view the world, but it is up to us as adults to be open minded and nonjudgmental.

I’ll pick up with part two of The High Museum in a day or two. I have a lot of reading to do.

Kewl…862 words in thirty minutes of casual maundering.

P.S.: The last image is a one of my abstract paintings contorted in photoshop.