You’re your own harshest critic

 

(Wherein our intrepid hero ponders the merits of vandalism)

On returning from the snow, I attend the opening of the art show Cross Currents at the MCA, which I considered to be pretty darn good, whilst also taking advantage of the opportunity to check out Primavera ‘07, which, to the contrary, I felt wasn’t so much a collection of art as a selection of young people showing off some clever tricks they’d figured out – how to make spray-paint paintings look like watercolours, making porcelain sponges, soap remnants and tupperware containers that look remarkably like the real thing, 3-Dimensional photo collages and hallucinatory video projections. The last of these consisted of an illuminated mattress, in the middle of a darkened room, onto which footage of a body slowly writhing beneath a sheet was projected. It was indeed an interesting sensation; watching this confluence of the 2nd and 3rd dimensional, writhing before your very eyes, was definitely akin to an induced hallucination. However, standing there, amongst a dozen or so strangers in the darkened room, all staring silently at the illusory body writhing on the mattress, with only the hiss of the air-conditioning audible, I couldn’t help but feel as though I were in the middle of a scene from one of the more bizarre 70’s movies. Something, perhaps, along the lines of The Holy Mountain, which, if you haven’t seen, I HIGHLY recommend.

I then wandered onto the second floor of the exhibit, where the aforementioned spray-paint paintings were, where I found my spirit stirred by the plaque with the title of a work, where “your” was incorrectly used instead of “you’re”. More than ever before I longed for a keyring red Sharpie, (the guerilla grammaticist’s best friend) and wondered how likely a lifetime ban on visiting the MCA would actually be enforced. In the end however, such ponderances were purely academic, as I was powerlessly penless.

Snowbound Sophistry

On the T-Bar, introductions are made. Discussions of one’s origins and length of stay follow (though usually in reverse order) comments on the weather and snow conditions follow this, typically accompanied by recollections of years past, or reports of conditions at other resorts. Then, as suddenly as it began, the brief association of strangers ends. On the chairlift, a lengthier discussion is afforded. Career and educational achievements and aspirations are discussed, dreams are carefully revealed, and apposite advice and anecdotes are almost always offered. Future paths are considered and dreams are changed as we sit through the icy-cool sky. Then, as the summit nears, the whispered promise of wisdom disappears into the wind, and for a brief instant, it seems as though, if the mountain were just an inch taller, the secrets of life itself would be discovered.