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So this was it. The night I could pull the cover off the Barchetta
- with fear and hope, I've got a desperate plan. I
would hop the fence and shed my corporate identity -
leaving behind talk of
URLs and dots and slashes, of architectures and databases
and interfaces, and indulge in something far too
neglected. Art: photographs and mixed media -
captured moments and captured emotions. I was here to
admire, to drop my defenses, and to let the artist murmur
his visions and dreams to me. So here I write of my
impressions and thoughts, mostly though of my joy. Perhaps
by this I can return the favor ...
The focus was the labor of a man - poet, artist,
photographer, musician, and lately, slayer of orcs. That's
what seemed to be the focus of the crowd when we jopin the
crush of people entering
Track 16 - I heard bits and pieces of conversations:
"Where is he?", "Do you think he'll come
through the front door?" "Will the others
show?." There was a buzz of anticipation - they
awaited the ranger and king. We pressed forward and
squeezed into the entrance, and bore right into the
gallery. Alan Rath's Stereo exhibit was throbbing with
music to the left, but was quickly lost in the sea of
voices as we journeyed further into the first room. There
were clumps of people engaged in conversations - and the
pieces seemed to serve as backdrops while they kept a
watchful eye on the entrance. Threads of conversations
intertwined, clashed, weaved - continuing experiences from
a moment, a day, a memory ago. We headed to the last room, and
I stood against a closed door. I cracked open a new
journal, and pressed a new pen to it's pristine pages
(bought earlier in the day just for this). With a smile on my face, I observed and wrote.
People would point at the Lord of the Ring's photographs
and excitedly exclaim - cries of "Frodo!" and
"Legolas!" were heard often. People would skim
their attention across the pieces, waiting for some
meaning or revelation to strike hot. "What does it
mean?" came from a woman pondering one of collages.
"It's
the meaning that we choose" I silently thought. The artist merely offered
his suggestion, it is up to us to reach the conclusion.
You may not like it, you may not appreciate it, but did it
make you stop to think?, did it remind you of some lost
childhood memory?, did it ...
I relocate to the next room,
secluding myself in a corner, and continue writing and watching the
crowd. John quietly informs me that Elijah is to our
right. I can't see him, but the crowd begins to swirl.
Then Dominic (who looks totally surprised by the reaction)
enters the room, followed by Viggo a moment
later. I pause - the Fellowship seems to be reuniting,
though they are all in different parts of the room. They
are their own gravitational forces, crowds of admirers
swirl and pulsate, contracting and extracting - a rhythmic
dance beyond my comprehension. Suddenly the inflow of
people is much greater than the outflow, and the vibes and
buzz of the crowd increases dramatically. I become
uncomfortable, and so head for calmer waters. It takes
awhile to progress against the flow - and so I'm able to
notice that the stars are friendly, patient, and
constantly saying sincere thank you's to the myriad
of compliments.
Time to cool from Viggo's
sunshine, and head for the funk
of Alan Rath.
I stand across from Chinese
Stereo, a tie for my favorite
"Stereo" piece. John heads to the bar to get
some drinks, and I again open my journal - writing of the
sounds (the stereos really work), the dynamics of the
crowd, the cascade of conversation.
NEXT » Track 16 Gallery,
Part 2
PREVIOUS « Santa Monica
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