April 20 - High Museum of Art

Last night, my first outing was to Atlanta's High Museum of Art. Yes, I know. It's quite humorous to go to a place known as the "High" on April 20th. It just happened to be a cute little coincidence.  My good friend Kristin was kind enough to let me tag along on her two-for-one ticket deal to see the Picasso to Warhol: Fourteen Modern Masters exhibit. I was game to see more work from Picasso and I was curious to learn the reasons behind the hype for Warhol. The  other 12 artists would be much appreciated lagniappe. Additionally, Jazz at the High,  which takes place every third Friday, was also happening. Kenneth Whalum and Joe Gransden would be performing. I have no idea who either of those artists are but it matters not.  We went, we ate a little dinner there and drank cocktails before heading on up to the exhibit first. Both the dinner and the cocktails were delightful. A wonderfully flavorful pasta and my signature dirty martini. Yum.

The first picture we saw was Pablo Picasso's Girl Before A Mirror. I think any woman would be able to recognize the power of the statement in that piece. We all look in the mirror and seem to see the worst of ourselves no matter what reality or the mirror actually reflects. I was moved. Then I went on to the other works when Kristin and I were all but accosted by one of Kristin's college classmates. Let's call him "Steven". Tall and pale with closely cropped hair and a goatee, I assumed that Steven was into men. However, literally five minutes after we shook hands he revealed that he hadn't sex in two years. Furthermore, he wasn't into drinking or drugs so he felt that his social life was suffering on account. Born and raised in Atlanta, he had been "whupped" regularly by both parents and grandparents. He didn't really care for the portrait of his grandmother which hung above his parents sofa because it looked as if it was watching his every move. He planned on making an entrepreneurial move to Lagos, Nigeria in the next year and had recently cried while attending a Nneka concert. Steven seemed to suffer a disconnect with white women because he was under the impression that they all wanted to go to Paris, eat cheese and fart. Again, Steven wasn't into drinking so he had only actually been drunk once. He had been horrified by that particular experience. So much so, that he woke up sweating from a nightmare about being intoxicated. Steven managed to reveal all this information to me while gazing upon works by Jackson Pollock, Romare Bearden and finally Andy Warhol.

My impression of Andy Warhol was that he managed to do for art what many CEOs had done in commerce. Take an existing idea, reproduce in multiples, brand and sell to the masses. An artistic wonder? Eh. A shrewd businessperson? Sure. As for Steven, he might as well have been one of the exhibits. I was as much intrigued with him as I was with Bearden's collages. He'd offered so much about himself in just that short window of time that I'd hoped he had at least been under the influence of some hardcore prescription drug. I guess some people are open like that. So what, I reveal all sorts of stuff on a blog. As if anyone reads. Alas, I think we Americans tend to tax our freedom of speech. We can't help expressing what we feel, think and know even when we might run the risk of revealing too much. Maybe both Steven and I should both pick up a brush and be a little less literal.  But, then again, where's the fun in that?

Kristin and I ended up not sticking around for the jazz. The acoustics really sucked although I'm sure the artists were quite nice. We had other plans for the evening. But that's another blog post.

For now, I really do encourage everyone who has a chance to check out the High for this exhibit or any other exhibit coming up. Art, in all of its forms, is such a wonderfully reflective and fulfilling approach to communicating the true nature of the human spirit. Truly something to behold.