Artistic

My parents used to take me and my little brother to art exhibitions when we were small. I vaguely remember all the hours I spend, dragging myself from one room to the other, being more fascinated by the people that dragged along than by the art on the wall. I preferred the sculptures outside in someones garden in summer, where I could play wit little bugs that crossed the line between nature and art and walked on sculptures like they were part of it. Once, i was so tired I sat down on a chair in a museum, only to finf a guard coming towards me with great panic in his eyes - in a sort of ice skating way, since you can't run in a museum - because apparently, that chair was part of the exhibition. How could I know that?

Once I started traveling, I discovered the deep impact of this part of my education. I felt the need to visit each museum I found on my way, even if I didn't really want to visit it. After years of therapy and group talks, I finally reached the point that I don't visit museums anymore if I don't want to. Because of that, I have only visit the Moma in New York, even after visiting this great city for four times. I approached the entrance of the Metropolitan three times, but once they were closed, once the sun was shining so hard that Central Park seemed more appropriate to visit and once I just wanted to buy a pretzel from the vendor who accidentally stood on that corner.

Once in a while, I do like to visit art - or supposed to be art - together with other art lovers. Last Saturday, I visited the REALisme fair, where I was surprised to find a lot of non-realistic art as well. Without bending forward to read name tags and descriptions of the art work, I tried to be touched by what I saw. In most cases, nothing much happened. I don't like eyes that could blink any moment, and landscapes don't do it for me.
But then, I found this painting. I saw it from far away and was pulled into it as I approached. One of the friends that joined me looked with surprise when I told him that THIS was what I liked. 'Sometimes, you totally lose me and I don;t understand you at all,' he said. I just felt happy. you only have to see one moving painting to have a great afternoon, and this came at the moment that I almost lost my hope.
On one hand, I was disappointed to find out it was made by Armando and it cost twelve thousand euro - I would love to buy it - but on the other hand, I was happy to know that I could still see what is really good, or what is decided to be good by other art lovers.

Decide for yourself: