Well this proves it. I can’t go any time without taking my lasix when my face and arms and legs start to swell up much like Violet Beauregard when she became a Blueberry. As I was trying to wear my little grey suit that night (unsucessfully, I kept having to tug it down over juggie and friend) it really hit home just how comfortable it is swelling up with liquids. My face is all jiggly. I have failed the cheek test, yet again. The hand test still gets a B-/C+, and the leg test gets an A-
I need to get some sort of diuretic in me soon, or else…NO, perish the thought. That way only leads to tears, and I did shed some last night out of sheer frustration. But, talking about diuretics just gave me a great idea…I could just hit up CVS for some bloat medicine and like “overdose” on it a bit…that would tie me over until I could get back to my prescription tomorrow morning…
‘Tis a thought.
I ended up visiting Orlando Art Museum, and it was pretty awesome…although not awesome enough for my $7.00. I did, however, enjoy the Curious George exhibition, even though I never really liked Curious George that much. I guess the Man with the Yellow Hat just never did it for me. What I liked the most was the artwork with the themes about things not always being what they appear. Ray Smith’s picture of Swans was awesome, as it had a bunch of swans on top of the lake that, appeared as hands in various swan-like positions in the reflection of the water.
My favorite picture, however, was by an artist named Frank Moore. I can’t find a picture quite like the one I saw that intrigued me in the museum, but I have found one he did much like it. This one is called Study for Black Pillow II. At any rate, the painting, called Black Pillow features a lazy looking farm hand type of guy (who was really buff and attractive, might I add) in an overtly sexual position…He was shirtless, and wearing overalls which were unbuckled and hung down around his waist. He leaned against the side of the canvas holding a gas pump at waist length. The pump which was pouring oil all over the ground in front of a small crop of what, at first, appeared to be a field of corn. It leaves one to wonder exactly where he was getting all the oil from, as there was no hose attached to the pump. There are nuts and bolts and screws scattered all along the ground, and sattelites hang in the distance – it is the exact antithesis of what one would think a good ol’ down home American farm should look like. Upon closer inspection, you find that the ears of corn are actually yellow keyboards and mouspads, and that the corn stalks are made of DNA double-helix type structures. Apparently, the ideal about the farm being the last bastion of simplicity, a hide-away for people afraid of technology, is a fake one. The painting shows that American farms are quite industrialized, needing computers, robots, and other bits of machinery to accomplish the work. Farms are also up to speed on biotechnological matters and
OH GOD WILL PATCHES STOP FARTING!!! I CAN’T CONCENTRATE WITH THE SMELL OF OLD FART HANGING IN THE AIR!are using hybrid how-to to make super plants. The farm hand has a rather bored expression on his face and is staring off into the distance. He really doesn’t get to work much with the land, he only pulls a trigger and soaks the ground with wasted oil. I simply loved the way the whole painting plaed with the idea that there is always something more under the surface. I loved it so much that I sat down right in front of it to sketch some of it and write about it. I don’t think the guards liked me too much, I noticed them following me around when their mental timer of how long a person should want to spend in front of one picture went off. But one thing I learned from Kirkpatrick was that you have to sit and look at a painting from different angles, up close and far away, and that you should try to sketch it and write about it, because when you sketch things you have to make sure to pay careful attention to detail.
For example, there was one statue there called “West Wind” and features this Lady Liberty-esque statue (we can tell who she is by her patriotic star-spangled belt that holds up her skirt) with her skirts and her hair blown backwards. We are to assume that she is walking forward, boldly, into the West – an assertion of many American beliefs about Manifest Destiny, that the United States was destined by God to take over this section of the continent. However, after circling the piece many times, I noted that if the wind were blowing Westward, the half naked Liberty Woman was definitely gazing wistfully toward the South. Could she have been saying that she was heading Westward for now, but she was going to be going South with her messages of Hope, Freedom, and Christianity? You know, there may not have been any significance in it at all, but I still thought it was interesting.
Another picture I loved was one where this Turn of the Century Woman’s gaze is stuck out of the window. You look around in the picture and you see that she’s got a steaming kettle sitting on the sill next to two apples, one of which is starting to go bad. There is a baby sitting in a high chair at the (what we assume is) breakfast table, and the table is half set. She is holding a plate of something, perhaps toast, in her hand, and looks to be headed toward the table to put it down when something through the window catches her attention. It leaves the viewer wondering what could have taken her attention off of all of the morning’s business…what could have been going on down in the yard that took all of her focus? Also, there is a cat in the picture who is looking up at her expectantly. The walls have cracks in them, and there is even a wall that has a hole in it – it looks to have been shoddily patched. The floorboards are coming up. Yet, they have a cat. That leaves me to wonder how they could have enough money to feed a cat and yet not enough money to patch the holes in their walls. I would have had more time to contemplate it, but
One other thing that caught my attention.
In the museum gift shop, I overheard two White women (and their race is important to the story, or else I wouldn’t mention it) talking about a clock that a little girl was trying to play with. And the shop-keeping lady says to the other lady “This Black man, the one out here working in the fountain…you know, sweetie, the Black man out there,” and she points towards the front of the museum “he was really impressed with that clock. The Black guy liked it alot.” I walked out to keep myself from interrupting their conversation and commenting. I noticed that there was only one guy in the fountain, ONE GUY! Would the second lady really have been so confused if the first lady had said “The guy working on the fountain liked the clock.”? Would the second lady have walked outside and said “I see no man! Only a Black; man fixing our broken water fountain! Who could you possibly mean? There isn’t a plain old regular; man working on the fountain…” I know, I know, perhaps she didn’t mean anything by the comment, perhaps she was simply trying to describe the man who liked the clock. Well, good. However, it lets me know alot about her state of mind, that Black is used as a description. She didn’t say the tall man, and he certainly was tall, she didn’t say the man wearing the white hat, because he certainly was, however, Black was enough of a rarity around that place that it was able to be used, quickly, as a description, to single out that man. Or at least in her mind that was all she saw when he walked in and said he liked the clock. Okay, now it’s time to end the rant because I think everyone gets the point…except for them. Maybe I should have said something…maybe it would have shocked her into using her brain before she opened her mouth. Or maybe not. Argh! People! I’ll just write it here so that the next time you begin to describe someone and you begin to use their race as a description, just ask yourself whether it pertains to the story in any way, or if its superflous information you are using to place the subject into a preformed box of stereotypes. I know that none of you would ever do anything like that…right?