Stories, Songs and Dances and More

I had something pressing (which I found later not to be important at all) which brought me downtown to the usually avoided area of the so-called financial district. Usually, the only reason I would be caught dead down there is to have a drink (or, rather, many drinks) with one of my fabulous couple friends who live in the neighborhood. Otherwise, it is one area that I tend to visit (that is the correct word) about once a year, maybe even less.

Anyway, after realizing that my schedule had shifted and what I was intending to do fizzled out (no need to go into that frivolity here), I made a little excursion to the Hermes store to wade through their little sea of bright and cheery ties- but, you know me- I couldn't just buy one, given that many of them are patterns in different colors.  And there were so many that I absolutely needed to have! Before I knew it, the selection amounted to about fifteen total, maybe more.  I left empty handed, though- the shopping compulsion had escaped me as I thought of a cool drink instead.

What would even be cooler than a glass of prosecco I thought would be to venture into the brilliant Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian, a most wonderful and seemingly secret place as it is off the beaten path.  On the rare occasions that I make my way that far downtown, I make it a necessity to see what's on.  And, once again, I was astounded and moved by the beauty of the creations on exhibit- many from the permanent collection that is beyond words in their astounding connection to the everyday and the world of the spirits, and there was also a temporary exhibit by the contemporary glass artist Preston Singletary- whose works seemed from the far distant past as well as the very far off future.

So many things to see, and yet to describe them all is both unnecessary and impossible. They are meant to be viewed and experienced with one's own eyes (and, preferably but not possibly, with one's own hands).  They are things that remind me of the possibility inherent in one's soul.  Perhaps a quote from the artist Preston Singeltary himself will be able to help me out here: "In the old days, things were made for a purpose, and there was a story and maybe even a dance and a song that went along with it,"

The Museum

abstraction as gateway