Yesterday I went to the Auckland Art Gallery. And guess what? It’s always free. Yay!!
There was a lot of abstract and installation art and I’m not a big fan of it. Sometimes I feel like I’m not deep enough to understand the meaning behind the art.
What is this???
It’s a bunch of plastic serving trays partially painted…and not even well painted. The placard next to it said the artist takes every day objects and brings them new meaning. I don’t see the meaning behind this. All I thought was, “Is this shit really art?”
But obviously I’m still thinking about it today and maybe that’s what the artist wanted.
I dunno….I just don’t get it.
I liked the museums in Italy because they were full of Titians and Raphaels (don’t be impressed, I just had to Google those names)….paintings of Ruben-esque women and people in the throes of divine ecstasy and Madonna after Madonna holding baby or full-grown Jesus. Those paintings I understand and I think they’re beautiful.
I don’t get pieces of metal with streaks of paint on them. It’s just not my thing.
I was walking behind three 20-something Germans, a girl and two guys. The girl kept stopping at the works of art and talking about them for so long and with such intensity that I really wished I understand German so I knew what she was saying. She seemed to really have some type of emotion evoked by those works of art and maybe it would have added something to it for me.
And then my evening consisted of laundry and playing Player Unknown’s Battleground and reading my not-so-good book.
A few things. Most (not all) homes in New Zealand don’t have dryers. This is because being an island, New Zealand is quite damp and moist. From what I can tell, building codes require that if hook ups for a dryer are built in a house, there must be vents to the outside so the moisture does not stay inside. Most old houses don’t have this, and a lot of newer houses don’t bother.
I haven’t had a dryer since I’ve moved here. I hang my clothes outside like a peasant or stuff them into the water heater closet. I’ve actually gotten used to it. It’s not too bad.
And now, where we’ve moved to in West Harbour, there’s a laundromat literally one minute down the road at the marina so if I absolutely need something dry quickly I can just run down there.
But seriously, peeps living in America, don’t take your dryer for granted. I did, until I didn’t have one anymore.
Player Unknown’s Battleground is a first person shooter game where you run around trying to kill 99 other little avatars (real people since it’s connected to the Internet) who are running around trying to kill you. Tom plays it a lot and he got me addicted. I’m terrible though. I just run around trying to collect as many weapons as I can and then I usually get killed by the first person who sees me. It’s actually quite a nerve-wracking game. I always jump a mile whenever I get shot. But it’s a lot of fun.
I used to just be a nerd…cuz I read a lot and love fantasy books and movies and shout out answers in Jeopardy while playing online chess. But thanks to Tom and his introducing me to first-person shooter games I have now become a geek as well.
C’est la vie. I knew it would happen some day.
My not-so-good book is called Wives of War. Don’t read it. I can’t put it down because the only book that has ever defeated me is Atlas Shrugged and I can’t let another book beat me. But it’s not great…it seems like it’s written by Laura Ingalls Wilder or Polyanna or by someone who is completely romanticizing what it would be like to be a WWII nurse.
The book is actually really annoying. I find myself irritated every time I put it down. But I can’t give up.
The last book, the Butterfly Garden, was about a bunch of women captured by a serial killer and it was great. I highly recommend it. Read it before the movie, which is in production, comes out. You know they’ll ruin it.
Anyway, sorry for a not-so-interesting blog today. Just some narcissistic ramblings really. But hey, no one’s forcing you to read it right? = )