Art · Creative writing · Moments of Grace · Paris

moments of beauty

Do you ever feel like you want to break free from your life, your body, gravity? Break this shell, and just soar?

That’s what ties me to writing in moments when I write what I feel, when it spills out of me to just express itself. It’s why art is so important, because it communicates, because it transcends a state or an experience.

It’s the opposite of writing a resume, which has been my occupation lately. Strangely enough, someone reviewed my resume and tore it apart as being completely inadequate. In the most profound way that honesty just liberated me and I was able to work on something new. I don’t know if this is making sense, and well…tough.

But I was needing levitation, and I just walked the streets of Paris, I got out at the Musée d’Orsay exit on the train, and turned into the Left Bank, wandering the streets, towards the general direction of the House of Latin America. There was a free exhibit there, and that’s my price range. I had seen a photograph of one of the paintings online and I had to meet the artist.

Cicero Dias was a surrealist before he even knew what surrealism was.
At 19, in Brazil, having never heard of the movement, he started painting watercolors of dreams, visions of bodies floating above strange landscapes, heads separated from their levitating trunks, Gabriel Garcia Marquez in images, sort of. His early watercolors I find very moving, and I am not particularly fond of his later work, but I found the separation I needed in his canvases, foreign, dream-like and absorbing.

 

 

I met a woman today, in the underpass that saves us from the roaring highway above, and I was lookig at the graffiti sprawling the cream walls. Thinking how far this was from beauty, when we started talking, and she asked where I was from. When I said Congo, she stopped and asked which one, and I said, as I usually do, “both”.

She is from ex-Zaire, and was so surprised to hear me talk of Limete, Matonge, Les 3 Z..that she shook in her laugh, and asked me…”Can I call you ‘sister’?”

And there, in the ugly underpass, life was made a painting again.

We’ve set a date to go out on the town and find some good saka-saka to eat, somewhere in the 18th probably. But I feel like I had dessert before dinner again. :-)

2 thoughts on “moments of beauty

  1. Hey sunshine,
    What a typical Vi story. I love it. Why do these things always happen to you? Do you just attract interesting encounters? Maybe you’re open to them, so you let them happen.

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