Lines, Shapes and Gallerinas
Actively back into pursuing my art, after being stripped of my Zamboni driving, goalie playing dreams, I played voyeur at Fraenkle Gallery at First Thursday in San Francisco. At the sight of the black and yellow iron staircase I remembered my first love who dragged me by the arm, rushing in time to make the free wine and cheese. The art was stunning 18 years ago and remains to be so. I couldn't contain my snide grin, that the people had not changed much in my view either. The cast of characters needs no describing, as it is really my own insecurities and arrogance of being commonplace that mattered to me. The gorgeous young women.... my back is so fucked up from hockey I'll never wear 3 inch, nonetheless 5 inch heels again. They were beautiful. I stared at them longer than the art on the walls. Each with something strikingly unique to adorn their outfits. I was wearing a cotton dress, a camouflage jacket and orthopedic sandals. It was all I could do to run out of the house, the noise of the teenagers and toddler fading behind me.
Can I do this again? Can I give myself with complete abandon to create? Can I leave all of the judgements I bring with me? Can I appreciate how the noise inside my head slows to a halt when I see a simple shape and take a picture?
No, I won't wear 5 inch heels again. I won't see the hard round black puck coming at my face anymore. But I still have have my sight (missing a few teeth), my cheap camera and the world is full of line and shapes.
PS. Hopefully next time, I comment on the art :)