I walked into the first gallery. It was cool, quiet, except for the
characteristic squeak of museum floorboards, and dimly lit. A sharp contrast to the city outside-
oppressively hot and humid, and equally oppressively chaotic and confusing. The gallery contained celedon ceramics from
the 10th-14th centuries.
Each one was housed in its own glass case, neatly lined up to follow the
curve of the building. Each one in the
same pale green color. There was just
such a simple, gentle elegance to these pieces, and to the way they were
presented. It was minimalist without
being boring. The sense of order allowed
me to really see each piece without feeling overwhelmed. It was the physical embodiment of “less is
more.”
This part of the museum is in the shape of a
castle- a fortress to protect the ancient art, and, by extension, to protect
the visitor from the outside world as well. And I thought, “this is how I want my life to
feel.” Simple, but interesting. Calm and peaceful and unhurried inside, even
when the world outside is anything but.
To curate an oasis of calm inside my head. To have time and space to think… what a luxury. But I wondered if I could find a way to
create that same feeling without having to hole up in dark fortress and isolate
myself…
Initially, I was more excited about
the second gallery. Modern art is more
my style. I love art that pushes
boundaries and “disturbs the comfortable.”
This gallery was arranged quite differently. No more circular building with one clear
path. This building was a jumble, with
bits and pieces sticking out here and there and nooks and crannies to
explore. The large windows invited the
chaotic world in and allowed it to interfere with your experience. There was no clear path, I found myself
heading towards whatever caught my attention first. I could feel the change from the calm,
simpler world in which the art of the first gallery was created to the chaotic
and overwhelming world that created the more modern art. It felt like an assault on my senses. You could see the attempts some of the more
abstract artists made to create even a temporary sense of calm with
monochromatic and two-dimensional paintings.
You just knew they felt the overwhelm, too. And that was before the Internet…
The theme of this gallery was
expressionism. Normally, a theme I love
and care deeply about. But maybe lately,
I’ve just been overwhelmed with what feels like shouting. Everyone is compelled to share their story,
to find what they are passionate about and share it with the world. To express themselves. After a while, it all becomes noise. Don’t get me wrong- I love that we live in a
world where we can and are expected to express our true selves. I want that for all of us, and I’m happily
participating in it. It’s just
overwhelming. Some days, it overwhelms
me in a good way, like when I see incredible street art, or when I came across a
team of prisoners carefully tending the public rose garden in Portland. And some days, it overwhelms me to the point
where I want to tune it all out and go sit in the closet for awhile. The world is an overwhelming place. My goal is to find ways to manage the bad
overwhelming, to have more time and energy for the good overwhelming.
* * *
(This
post was written after visiting the Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art in Seoul,
South Korea.)