The struggle of Art

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Two days ago I stumbled over  a topic of a writing competition:

Art – who is still going.

At first I thought, yeah right, nobody is visiting museums anymore, not even my grandparents do. (That’s a bit exaggerated – I love museums). So, when picking up my pen to write another poem about vanishing interest in art, by  drawing circles and squares on to my paper to make it look less bank, I paused for a moment.  I stared out of my window, watching different type of cars, colorful bikes, walkers with umbrellas, tourists with wellies and cameras. I watched over to the opposite building,  the crested bowfront, the windows, the big graffiti of a starving cat next to the entrance.
Suddenly, the radio caught my attention by announcing  a new ballet production of Don Quichotte followed by a live broadcast of Nobuo Uematsu. While listening I am playing with my handcrafted earring, glancing to the starving cat. I close my laptop, the graphic of a big panda is smiling up at me from the sleeve, grab my purse, made of recycled carton, and leave the appartement. Trams with huge adverts are passing by, the purr of a tattooing needle makes me feel the pain. I am starving. I jump through the puddles to reach my favorite vegan restaurant. They are creating their own delicious meals and are normally “cleaned out” before my day even starts. During my lunch I got a phone call from a friend, who urgently needs a helping hand for the decoration of a music festival. With a new creation of Tricia in my belly I am strolling back home, check the competition topic again and laugh. Nobody needs to go anywhere, cause art is everywhere!

 

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