Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

To Have

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You know, with all the stuff I saw at Alexander the Great, I realise that what’s so disappointing about exhibitions – of any type of art, really – is that you have to spend a limited time in front of each work.  I want to be able to take them home.  I want to use a drachma as a paperweight, or have one of the silver bowls to put my keys in.  (Actually, I have my keys in my wallet, so I wouldn’t need the bowl for that.  But I’m sure I could find some use for it (some use that doesn’t involve foodstuffs).)  (The bowl I’m thinking about is more like a wide goblet than a normal bowl, I think.  No, I don’t think it had a stem…  I can’t remember.  I bought the catalogue (that is, the program, I suppose), but it’s in the other room.)

There’s such a pressure to appreciate the art while you’re there.  And you do appreciate it.  But something like a sculpture derives much more worth from repeated viewings, doesn’t it?

I want something to contemplate, too, while I’m daydreaming my metaphors.  (Not that the metaphors take forever to come, though.  I don’t think I ever really wait more than a minute or two.  Probably less than 45 seconds, usually.  I think.  Maybe it’s a lot longer.  Time gets very weird when one writes.)

You know what I haven’t done lately?  Looked up at the Opera House and admired its beauty.  Must’ve been a couple of months, probably, since I’ve done that.  Never mind – I’ll do it this Sunday.

Finished Jamrach’s Menagerie today.  Well worth my money, thankfully.  The section where they were all stranded at sea was quite harrowing, and I get the feeling that that  was  the original artistic urge that the author had, and that most else around it was somewhat extra.  It was certainly the most powerful part of the book.

I imagine that Moby Dick might be like that section, but much longer.  The slow but inexorable trek into madness.  I remember from trying to read it, way back whenever it was that I did, that I didn’t get past the bit where the guy with the weird name that starts with a Q did the amazing feats on the ship in the bay.  Or perhaps the ship had set off.  I can’t even remember the name of the ship.  I must read it sometime soon, but I’ll give it a few books’ leeway, lest I overload myself nautically.

And…  I’m going to start The Tale of Genji.  Almost started on The War at the End of the World by Mario Vargas Llosa, but didn’t.

Written by epistemysics

April 19, 2013 at 2:50 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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