perhaps one should really not chew on everything

some of the walls at home look like parts of the guggenheim. sometimes before the restoration process. but there is a bit of the desert clay architecture feeling to some of the walls. that melted crust of years of thin layers of heavy metal white. saw the louise bourgeois show at the guggenheim yesterday. and it was beautiful work in a space that somehow had not been made for it. bourgeois' work sometimes needs to be locked into a dark environment, sometimes it needs space to be approached from all sides, explored in stillness. it needs time to whisper or shout. the guggenheim sometimes feels like a parking garage for art, packed with insane masses of people who are itching so badly to take pictures above the permitted level of first floor that i am surprised that few jump. and the light was awesome for that motorcycle show a few years ago. even the matthew barney show with some pieces that appeared to be semi translucent versions of frank lloyd wrights preferred materials somehow fit neatly onto the ramp. the louise bourgeois retrospective felt a bit drained of blood, washed, tilted, sanitized. maybe that's good. maybe this makes lb's work more accessible to all those who never had a chance to come across it... (though, who would that be?) one of the best rooms of the show was actually on the b level, behind the glass door of the education center. here a series of photographs and many of the passports of the artist were on display in a gently curved plexi glass vitrine. and a movie was looped on a hd television, playing for an audience of three to five, perched on tiny folded garden chairs. it was the movie that had been created for a 1983 retrospective, at the moma. it was the movie that maybe focussed too much on the mistress, too much on one particular conflict in lb's life?... yet here it was again... okay, we arrived at the guggenheim on a friday afternoon. fridays are the long evening days at the guggenheim, so the masses were more... massive. perhaps looking at the show was a bit like watching a movie after having read the book. maybe i should not voice an opinion until i get a little deeper than chapter three or so... the guggenheim was selling little pieces of the facade as jewelry. perhaps one day i will be able to melt the paint in my apartment into little soldiers. just like the ones i was not supposed to chew, as heavy and soft and sour as they were.