When you set out to do something, the sensible part of you knows not what to expect, but it is the irrational being inside of you, that thrives off of this uncertainty. It keeps you walking for consecutive hours; even after that engagement with the drunken beggar and the smoker who thought it a good deed to share his fumes with bystanders. Centre Pompidouwas unlike any other gallery experience. Essentially, it is a gallery, with a library at it's core... Judging by the quality of the gallery, the collection of texts could only follow suit - sheer epicness.
If we were to erect a monument in order to define the word aware, Centre Pompidou would be it. Never have I visited a place that was so gingerly aware of it's role and power, not only to stimulate minds in a creative capacity, but also to inspire a sociopolitical awareness regarding even the most mundane aspects of our humanity.
It was a Wednesday, January 7th and we were elated - we didn't have to get tickets for the Louvre - instead, we flashed our British driving licences (one pink, one green) to the admissions officers and we strolled, leisurely, through. Disappointed, like many, by the size of the Mona Lisa, we nonetheless took the necessary selfies for snapchat, instagram and facebook, then we continued our stroll: finding the Dying Slave (once again, disappointed by it's stature) and my favourite piece 'Liberty Leading the People', among others.
Upon leaving the museum, the street ahead of us was glittered with a motorcade of French Police vehicles and for a moment I was excited, reminded of the scene in the Dark Knight when Harvey Dent puts himself forward as the Batman, is taken into police custody and escorted by the police to Gotham City's police station, while The Joker pulled out a bazuka among other instruments to attack the vehicle.
We've been spoilt by the vibrant nature of LCD and HD screens etc.... The Renaissance in reality didn't cut it, but Jeff Koons had us stimulated. We dribbled at the high-shine and porno and ironic advertisement. Then at once, were evermore elated at the discovery of Wi-Fi.
"I hope u r not where they killed pple"
A text from my mother appears on my phone and I google, as is only natural, the word 'Paris'.
In a few moments, 12 people were shot dead for expression. Expression we had just spent the day ooh'ing and aah'ing at. Well.
Maybe this is the reason for the passiveness of our revolution. Maybe anything too vibrant will get you killed, silenced.
The next morning the local newsagent was swarmed with 'Libération'banners, the window pane plastered with national and international newspapers.
It has been a minute since I last blogged my life away and it has been without good reason. Clothes are still as important as they were before and so are the cooperations that keep us ticking, but it’s boring being a member of the cast of Punch & Judy essentially doing low-down promo for big dawgs, for the same reason people work 8 hour shifts for £4.50 an hour. Besides I’m trying to get a degree some skills to make more shit and although I’m pretty much always behind my Macbook screen; I rejigged my priorities… It’s too cold for selfies. Besides all of this, the world is bigger than fashion, no matter how intelligently people try to market the marques as being in-line with socio-political events, it all seems a bit fad-esque.
Movies, art, film and documentaries have been my life so far: as always. Below is some stuff I suggest you view, because I saw it and I loved it. My blog. I’m biased.
