I ask for help and am told my direction, I was right but I felt a need to make sure. He tells me you must go to the African Art Museum. Oh I said that is exactly where I am going. He wishes me well and tells me God Bless. And bless you too I say thank you so much. I step out of the dark and dirty tunnel and into the air, the spring is full here and the birds are singing, and for some reason I am transported to Caracas Venezuela. I wander these balmy neighborhoods in search of my self and only find what I have lost and not what I hope for. I laugh at myself for wishing for the ear of an old friend and yet still I wish I could say what I have in my heart.
I haved a mission and I am headed there when my head is turned by images of the Buddha. I walk into a stuffy old museum, there an older woman is giving directions to an Asian woman and her mother. I wait. I ask for help and she gives it, her smiling face and bright eyes a reflection of myself.
I begin to wander these old rooms and find myself standing in front of a display case, the photo in the link above cannot possibly do justice to the intensely carved and intricate beauty of this piece. I find that in this moment all of my thoughts are blown away, my emotions dissipate like clouds, my words are like raindrops, too numerous to count and my very soul is worn smooth like the slate after the passing of countless storms. I open my mouth and only breath comes and goes. Wow. I am wow.
I walk into the Whistler room and am non plussed, how can he be famous this close to this other art. The work is pale and ordinary like the Korean ceramics. I take a magnifying glass in my hand and look at the work of the Persian miniatures. I am afraid my breath with fog the glass I am standing so close to examine the intricate one hair brush of gold inlaid roses on a wall paper high up above an arched doorway, where undoubtedly some hijabed woman waits for her husbands guests to be on their way. She must be embroidering more of the intricate fabrics that adorn her home. I wander room to room transported.
As I leave I stop and tell the woman at the information desk, thank you for your help today. And I said, what a gem you have here. All the other buildings with their snapping flags and flashy names, and here you have this unassuming old building filled with art so precious and spectacular. Nothing else this whole day will compare. Except I realize as I write these words the orchid room in the Botanical Garden.