“All good things come and go. The bad days are becoming better and better. People smile. It’s not dark anymore in my head. I am measuring my happiness with the sounds of music, flashes of colours and touches. Some stories should remain as a secret. We don’t need to know all of them. But it would be a shame to not give a chance for them to happen”, I’ve read loudly in my head, from the page of a journal that I was writing this summer. I’ve read it not with the genuine interest, I would say.
Don’t get me wrong. Summer is great… And travelling is great. But I like to read something else while in the tube. Feels like you have all the time in the whole world there. You finally have time to read, to write, to think, to imagine your life in a million different ways without wasting a second. The last one always happens to me when I’m staring at people in tube. It’s a little rude, I know, I know, but we all want to imagine ourselves in the position of others. Step in my position. Welcome to my world. Trust me, just for a few hours. Maybe you will like it.
Train shakes and I get back to reality. Apparently, you don’t have all time in the world, especially, when you live in London… Few more stops, hundreds of people, congestion, about a few more thousand steps and I’m home. “Anyone home?”, I’m shouting, while knocking on the fridge. Sadly, no one answers. Not a single vegetable. A student’s fridge is as empty as my head before deadlines. No worries, I can grab a sandwich or a banana after the exhibition.
The pinkness of my fur coat reflects on the mirror in the elevator. “Ground floor, first floor, second floor”, a mechanic voice informs that it’s time to step out. Doors open and my glimpse stumble over the poster: “1st & 2nd Year Exhibition. NOT ONE F*** will be givin.” Provocative, shocking, brave… Brave as the smell, which greets every new visitor as a doorman from the oldest and most known hotel in the city. Smells like food, due to the girl, who is cooking soup in the right corner, mixed with the paint of still freshly shinning canvases and warm weather. My stomach growls and shrinks, even though that it’s a weird and interesting combination. To be honest, the combination is interesting because of all the mixed emotions of different characters in this space tonight. Like in a sorted and ready to be painted still life. Everything and everyone is in a right place. Every little piece of puzzle is perfect.
Unfortunately, the smell didn’t fascinate me and I went to the left. The exhibition was pretty similar to what I was expecting to see- a few really amazing ideas, great installations and other artworks, but the rest of works were increasing my desire to get a drink because that art is too hard to understand while sober. My loss, the glass of cheap red wine didn’t help. However, those few works that I liked trapped in my memory for the long.
A flashback and a glitch in the memory. Am I staring at Mr Donald Trump’s face again? Like it didn’t stare at me from the magazines, newspapers and new sites this whole year… Surprisingly, these artworks are different: outrageous, dark humour themed, political and relevant. Almost everything what you would expect from a millennial artist. My ears catch something new and while following the vibrant bass I enter another space: a dark room, full of weird and bright neon paint touches. The most amazing thing about this futuristic room is that everything is hidden and if you want to see a true meaning you have to look deeper and light your answers with the UV light. A mash of photos and painting start messing with my mind and create blurred dialogues and scripts in my head. “You are my love” one painting hides a secret message. And so, our lives are actually much more interesting and full of good thing around us that we think. Sometimes all you need is to open your eyes.
“My eyes look out the window. My mouth breathes and bites the air coming through. This route is my life and I am a passenger. Around, memories that I can’t capture and figures which I can’t see. Where am I? Where am I going? Where am I coming from? I am a passenger”- I remember the words from the last artwork while going home. And I become just an ordinary passenger again. Like everyone else around me today.