Believing in things

When P and I were in Chicago we went to the Jeff Koons exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art.  I definitely liked some of his stuff (see picture).  His statement talked about reintroducing a feeling of childlike wonderment.  These sculptures are huge and the force you to see all the little wrinkles and such as if it was a real balloon.  You also see yourself in the reflection.  The scale makes you feel small again.  The material makes you curious - what is that stuff?  How does it work?  How did he make this?  All of those questions are things kids ask all the time but we informed adults usually glaze over.  

Some of his other stuff was less cool and less effective.  We saw a little group getting lectured by the docent and talked b/tw ourselves about whether the artist intended everything the docent was saying or whether art critics just read into it all, whether post-conceptualization and serendipity and process make the product just as much as the initial concept does.  I said without thinking: "Art is something you have to believe in."  And it is.  It requires faith like believing in God or religion.  You have to make a jump because if you never buy into it then you'll never benefit from it.  

I think love is the same way.  You have to believe in it.  You have to believe it's true or that it can be true.  The world you live in is the one you choose to see.  If you don't believe love can be real then it will never be.  If you don't believe it's worth the investment of time and effort and emotion then it won't be.  

Sometimes I scoff at people with more faith than mine.  They believe in things I once did and I think they're foolish for doing so.  That's pretty arrogant and lame on my part.  I just realized that I also scoff at people in love sometimes.  And that's even worse.  I think they can't possibly be that happy, they're way too young to know what they're doing, or they just don't know what they're in for.  Above all things I want to believe in love.  I mean, I've seen it work and it looks like a good deal: my grandparents were married for 64 years.  That's the most beautiful thing I can think of in the whole world.  And my parents have been married 33 years.  They all got married really young and they made it.  

I think my generation's fears about marriage are permeating my idealistic Christian culture picture.  But if it comes down to believing in something hopefully and being in love idealistically, or fearing something and never believing in it enough to let it happen, I'm gonna go with the former.  It's not a question of believing in a happy lie or facing a sad truth.  The difference is that the belief creates the reality.  If you believe it can be good and special and real it will be, and if you believe it will be crappy and terrible and disappointing it'll be that.  In reality, love is both the good and the bad but the picture one paints determines which side triumphs.

My hungover thoughts on a Saturday "morning".

<3

K

Back to the city of brotherly love

Hi friends,

It's been awhile. Sorry about that. I kind of took a break from the computer if I wasn't at work. I read a lot of books and watched the Olympics this summer instead of surfing the web. Twas good times.

I'm back from New Orleans safe and sound. I feel bad that the storms hit right when I left. Fay came literally the day of my departure, and Gustav, that bastard, reared his ugly head a week later. I can't say how glad I am that Gustav wasn't as bad as he could've been. It was also good to see that evacuations went smoothly (relatively speaking). Hopefully this whole incident will restore everyone's faith in the city's ability to manage disaster, both New Orleanians and general Americans alike. I've been in contact with some friends but have yet to get a full report about re-populating the city. Hopefully that part goes well.

After a (too)brief jump back to Detroit and a few dreamlike days in Chicago, I'm back in Philly. I must admit I was more than a little anxious to come back. Who knows why? I guess my life feels hyper-compartmentalized sometimes so transitioning between worlds is disconcerting. Despite my fears, it was an easier adjustment than expected.

I've been moving into my new place these last few days, which is amazing. I'm sharing a rowhouse with three boys (scary right?) My room is big and beautiful as is the kitchen. The boys are great. Moving stuff in was a breeze with so many hands. I came downstairs two nights ago to find them sorting through everything in the kitchen, organizing and cleaning. They're clean! It's wonderful. I'm psyched. I whipped up these margarita-inspired sables au citron as my inaugural batch of cookies. They liked them. We're a happy little family.

I also caught up with most of my city planning friends at a party last night. I didn't realize how much I missed this great group of crazy kids. I can't say I'm ready to start school tomorrow (eek!) but I am glad to be back with friends.

I missed some things about this city. I like that I can easily walk everywhere I need to. Groceries, cafes, bars and restaurants are just around the corner. And like New Orleans, my neighbors here are friendly and say hello. I have yet to walkabout and fully reacquaint myself with the city as I've been busy unpacking and all that jazz. Hopefully this afternoon I can go for a long run around town.

School starts tomorrow. Did I mention that? Yikes. I'm definitely doing some class shopping. But I'm also excited for the semester. My studio class is doing a long-term plan for the water levels of the Delaware river, so we're traveling to Holland to interview officials there on how they do what they do so well. After living in New Orleans I think I'll be even more interested in the studio. Hurrah.

Well my loves, I should probably get back to work. I hope all is well and we talk (for real) sometime soon.

If you're reading this, I love you.

-k