(no subject)

As much as it embarrasses me to fall back into this state of mind (again and again...) where I'll forget about social niceties and will shamelessly & depressedly whine on livejournal, apparently getting this shit out of your system does help, at least occasionally.

I feel much calmer and more relaxed today, had a long morning run followed by breakfast and hot shower, switched off the computer, took the bus to Klosterneuburg and visited the exhibition of 20th century Austrian painting in the Essl museum. Nothing breathtakingly astounding, but interesting overall and I quite enjoyed it, although most of everything from the 2nd half of the century continues to baffle me.

Today I've come to the conclusion that perhaps it has to do with my control freak-ish tendencies. Ancient Greek art was understandable, analysable, clear lines of stylistic development, social context. And really, the same can be said for everything until the beginning of the 20th century, when it all suddenly explodes so fast and in so many different directions that I'm left confused and almost entirely at a loss.

When I look at something and can't even try to decipher it, my brain is... not happy. It wants to supply the whys and hows and wherefores as usual, but can't even define them and generally lacks the thought concepts and words to do so.

Most of modern and contemporary art speaks in a language that I don't understand and I feel has nothing to say to me, making me feel stupid and helpless, something that, I'll admit, I hate very much. I don't know how to look at it, what to like, how to like it, what is good, what is bad? And I simply don't care enough to educate myself sufficiently to take the intellectual approach. Rather, I browse, in the hope that eventually my mind will open up, I'll have an epiphany, something will speak to me, I'll arrive in the present... Or not.

Strangely enough (because on the surface that's not exactly 'my thing' either), from all the post-1945 art I found the photos from the Wiener Aktionismus period the most interesting, because the human body is something I can understand. It's readable...



Anyway. Had tea and cake on the terrace of the cafe, sitting in the sun reading Pamuk's Rot ist mein Name. Which doesn't sound like much, but given my usual tendency to hide, my almost phobia of doing such mundane things as going into a cafe (alone!) and ordering something... I'm definitely feeling better.

Let's see how far into Monday this will to last