Picture it

Ah, a dream came true, now I will be catching the moments in pictures along with words. A slightly more effective method, though still no efficient enough for me. Like the postcards that one buys after visiting a gallery. An exhibition temporary in a sense that one can experience it only being there, afterwards there is no way to go back to the emotions, and the powerful and un-investigated computer-mind fails to recall the paintings in detail. Postcards may only serve as a trigger of memories, or just a mere reminder that once you have demonstrated so much determination to make the way to some art gallery and see some creations that self appointed experts term art. And that you cruised around these people seemingly engaged in high-class conversations about the texture/perspective/colour (of their new wallpaper in the hall). Once I used to feel I was the only one who does not understand. Now I see, lo and behold my blindness is gone, they all don’t know. And that is why any gallery is the best comedy. Why to buy a 30 quid ticket to a show on the West End? Isn’t it enough to see the concentrated faces and hands clasped behind the backs in front of an orange plastic pyramid hanging from a ceiling (perhaps just a lamp but just in case it’s supposed to be artistic, maybe I just missed the caption?), heated discussion next to a sculpture of a paper spider, eyebrows frowned upon a picture showing black square in black background? (sounds like Rothko? That’s what I am talking about, and to be fair, I myself liked it, though not to an extent of a heated discussion - rather a murky contemplation…) And so why to buy the postcards? Technically, because you liked a picture so much that you want to look at it from time to time before going to sleep… (I like Goya and can only wish myself sweet dreams), but on the other hand a postcard is simply ill-equipped to evoke the very same feeling that the original picture did, and especially the one you liked the most, for the definition of ‘liking’ art is based on… you wish I could answer so that you could steal it and quote it to your art professors… well, it is usually a combination of factors, when finally this mixture of colours, a total waste of oil-paint, so much they use it sometimes, layers of shiny mud, make you SSS - stop sit stare in a mysterious enchantment. Happens rarely, and when it does others have a perfect reason to treat you as a great pretender. For 90-5% of the time you are, but it is only in order to find this one painting that will make all the gallery trips worth going out into the London fog.