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| White |
It´s a funny thing feeling so very
alone with nothing to grasp onto. Frightening. And yet at the same time full of potential. It is such an unnatural state for me that surely it cannot last even though it feels so permanent.
I once went to have a fresh fruit smoothie
in my favourite cafe in Barcelona,
where you could sit and write and feel other creative spirits around you. At the back was a small art gallery which
normally had contemporary art on the walls and which fascinated me because it
was…blank. There was nothing there. Not even the shades of old picture frames. I asked the waiter “What´s going on with the
art?” she replied “There is no-one”. End
of story. My first reaction was to think
that they should have left the old stuff on, whatever was going on before. But the more time I was
near those white walls, the more I started to think about how to get art to
them, to find people who would be desperately happy to exhibit their fine work…and
then I had this inspiration: if the walls were filled with the old stuff, then
there would be no space for the new. There
would be no message to call in the new possibilities, it would just be an old, stale,
fill the gap cover-over to avoid embarrassment, to try and appear something that isn´t any
more.
And so I continue with my scary blankness,
wondering, wondering.
