Leaving you guys with a conversational pearl, one of many, that is so often sprinkled onto our conversations,  when I catch up with this great friend from yesteryears. 

Me: Hey, I finally got a call from M$.

Friend: Dude, don’t go. Somebody has to be on the other side. 

- Splashes of European culture at Port Jefferson.

- Pimped up my webpage.

- A new on-campus job. 

- String Quartet covers of some of my fave rock songs. 

- Presented a technical poster summarizing what I intend to concentrate on for my thesis.  

- A friend‘s awesome prawn delicacies. 

- Jamie Murray

- The day at MOMA, which my prawn-friend regrets missing out on so bad. :-p

- Sausage experiments.

- Soccer

- Clapton dreaming while staring at the past. 

- “Tonights the night” – Dexter

- Reminiscing the good old Stewie humor with Family Guy’s take on Star Wars. Hilarious. 

- Yet another poster.

All of this can be seen, up close and personal, right here.

Last Sunday I was at the Museum of Modern Art in the city. Even before I stepped in, I was quite prepared to get blown away by the place. Different forms of art. The unique, the melodramatic, the surprising and the classic. But what really happened was quite different. I found myself lost.

The museum was at its usual on a snow-free Sunday. Packed. While trying to find out the sections on Photography I got lost in galleries titled Furnitures, Paintings and Modern Art. There were places where I stood and read write-ups about the artist and their work. A habit I have cultivated on my lonely escapades to the art galleries in Bangalore. Quite as an accident, I might add. Coming from a city like Kolkata, I found Bangalore’s galleries lacking in quantity. Yes, I said quantity, not quality. I used to visit the same place more than once and ended up reading the lonely leaflets where budding artists scribbled to their heart’s content. As a school-boy, I remember being surprised by how people could study Art as a subject. Owing to mom, she is an architect, I picked up a sense of realizing aesthetics quite early. Colors, proportions, directionality and contrast elevation came naturally to me as I saw her at work, at ease. But I still couldn’t figure out how students read endless pages of history about an artist or their painting. Art to me was meant to be seen, felt or created. It was on these lonely Sunday afternoons in Bangalore that I saw paintings through the eyes of the artist and out came a sense understanding and fascination for the work that I cannot describe in words.

Talking about quantity, MoMA is huge. You can glide through the galleries absorbing the sense of creativity of art in general. Or sit in front of an unique piece of furniture and spend an hour about what went through the artist’s mind while designing it. The way things are presented at this museum has a special novelty of its own. It shows how the most simple and mundane thing, when done up with thought and attention, stands out. I did remember to take a few photographs. At some points though, I was too absorbed to even remember. While few works of art just made my camera feel awkward and shy. They were best left untouched.

Before I end, I must mention, for my love of it, the atrium and its skylight. As you bob in and out of galleries, there are openings on the walls which give you a sneak peak into the center of the building. Other than curious gazes, these openings let in light in various angles from different sides of the building. The interplay of shadow at various times of the day is a treat to the eyes. And if umbras and penumbras are not your thing, there is a skeleton of a huge dinosaur in between all of this, for you to admire. The American fascination for these reptiles is at times funny.

And, guess who also was here around the same time ?

Here are some pictures from that day. Had also visited Bryant park and the NBC-experience store on the way to the museum. And here are a few more from a recent trip to the ski-slopes of the Blue Mountains near Philadelphia and to the glitz of casinos in Atlantic City.

Next stop: ICP in the city.