Friday in the City

Just returned home from a languishing day off from regular life, rather past my bedtime I might add. Was out and about during the afternoon, having been raped by the government yet again at the Ministry of Transportation for fees unknown, so perused my favourite art store in preparation for some much needed time in front of a canvas. Or perhaps handmade paper, as I found some fabulous ones that did follow me home.

My wonderful friend Anna-Banana decided to get me a membership to the AGO in celebration of my birthday this week - yippee! - so we ended up there late in day for a quick walk through. It’s the first time I’ve been there since they officially re-opened. Very posh. Cute guy at the front, all dashing in his little uniform. Very friendly. Was a great experience except for the ridiculous closing time of 5:30pm. What’s with that? What else in the world ends at 5:30pm? It’s Friday night. I had hours to spend and they were tossing people out before the day even ended.

Saw much of the ‘Surreal Things’ exhibit. It could have been so much more really. But interesting. Not enough paintings, obviously, for my taste. Angelika Hoerle passed me like a comet all right, and Seiwert-Hoerle-Arntz were generally intriguing. Ok, I liked the oils. There is something about just looking at a painting, for me, that makes the world slow and intensify. I don’t know why. They involve me like nothing else. Just being there made me long for my brushes and the smells of my studio.

By the time we were making our way to the Canadiana galleries they were chiming the little bells and ushering us out. Damn. So I’ll go back next Saturday, because now I just feel like working. Since I’m back in the studio now, I had planned to go off to sleep and up early in the morning to work, but now that I’m here, think I’ll just work for a bit. My eyes are a little fuzzy. Perhaps a nap on the sofa in the studio, then work straight after. I try not to sleep in the studio during weeknights, cause it makes getting to work a little strenuous, but I have days left before I’m back to corporate sensibility (oxymoron? Hmmm).

I felt mood this afternoon. Saw it. Tasted it. But it wasn’t mine. I have to find my own now.