I parked my little blue Miata outside of a massive house with plentiful gardens, in a no parking zone. I was running in to pick up my entire family so that I could head out to Australia.
In a spacious room with dark wood floors was a giant orange art piece, flagged by two brown leather chairs. The work extended out into a shrine-like formation and was almost luminescent. It wanted to draw me in and when I saw it I shrieked with delight, putting my arms out like I was about to hug it.
Beyond the room my mom and I found a secret door with a tiny flight of stairs leading to an entire unknown space. I wanted to explore the rest of the art so badly, but had to battle myself into leaving to ensure the car wasn't towed and that I didn't miss my flight.
The last piece I saw existed in smaller entrance/exit room. It was a mirror, cut into segments, suspended with string over another mirror cut in a similar way. The two faced each other like a four-poster bed suspended in space, creating a fractal of distortion. Whoever came up with this concept was a genius. I wished it were my idea, and wanted to use the concept in my next instillation of a migraine, mirrors would be the ideal thing to represent the visual cortex's inability to piece reality together.
...
When I was showering and remembered a few pieces of dreams, I was delighted to realize that the mirror idea was actually mine. I was less delighted to realize I was sick. I made some miso, toast and an egg, and my flat mate invited me to come sit in the sun where girls were tanning in bikinis.
I realized I had forgotten the bike tour, had missed it by several hours, and was heartily disappointed. This actually made me glad I was sick, because I probably wouldn't have been up for it anyway.
I had no desire to become tan or drink margaritas, so I went to my room to study neuroscience, start a painting, and blow my nose.
No comments:
Post a Comment