This week I wondered, what are you supposed to do with this feeling art can give you? What if it follows you, to the office, to the classroom? What if it exceeds the space of a page, or a room?
I read a novel this week, A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore, that exceeded its rectangular papery space each time I picked it up.
“Regret – operatic, oceanic, fathomless – seemed to stretch before her in every direction. No matter which path she took regret would stain her feet and scratch her arms and rain down on her, lightlessly and lifelong…”
This book made me want to write, made me thirst for the river of words that could, if there was time for it, come out of my pen.
I went to an art gallery this week, for the first time in months, saw a show of Micheal Snow’s recent work. One piece, “Condensation – A Love Story” was a projection of a kind of time-lapse of weather in a Nova Scotian cove. Sun flew across field and ocean and then receded into a curtain of fog and rain; light remerged, and revealed the cliffs to have different colours before rain shrouded them again. I felt moved by a natural world so enduring and fine.
I saw a Play, Cloud 9, by Caryl Churchill, that failed to move me despite enormous resources and a cast of highly experienced and talented actors. I saw a one-woman show, Everything I’ve Got by my friend Jess Dobkin, and got to enter into a magical world of unicorns, vaginas, clown cars, and lavish artistic imagining.
Seen any good or bad art lately? How did it make you feel?