so this month, i'm in nyc. hot, sweaty nyc.
this afternoon, a friend of mine and i moseyed across pratt with our million pound computers to do a little work at a cozy little nook called pillow cafe. i worked on sketches for a client's calling card. it's a simple job. very cute, very bubbly client. naturally, i'm trying to find a loop-hole where i can add a bit of edge to the design.
but my thoughts kept crawling toward the events of the past week.
i participated in an art show called "intersection" in the city that was created by 21 young artists from all around the country. each piece was a collaborative work inspired by one of 7 different words. "intome|see" is a piece inspired by "intimacy," in which the tags, suspended under sensual drapery of fabric, reveal the inner-most thoughts of various people involved in the show.
when you ask an artist to write down what is hidden behind the confines of the public persona, though not all writings will merit it, you must prepare to read a great deal of disturbance. i'm sure guests of the show were not expecting to find such young and seemingly normal people to carry thoughts or experiences of suicide, murder, betrayal, duplicity, sexuality, addiction, abuse, rage, and darkness.
however, how much of what is written in this piece is truly shocking to the core? as i perused through it, i wondered if these weren't, in reality, a sample of a common experience of humanity.
there is green tea in china and korea. but there is also green tea in argentina and chile.
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