The Reckoning
Yarrgh, it's been a month! To be fair, that month was full of ten days on the East Coast and then a week-long writing workshop hosted by this little magazine, where I wrote fiction and trebled my reading list. Which accounts for... about half the month. So I'll take a slap on the wrist for two weeks' absence. But I promise you, I've been busy.
The first thing I generally do when I get home is wrestle with my dog, and then wake up the next morning in a museum. Somewhere in there is a metro ride, but I'm generally only semi-conscious for that. I'm terrified of missing out on the Capitol's art scene. Like the jaw-dropping exhibitions I saw at the Smithsonian constellation. Art of Darkness, a collection of Yozo and Katsunori mezzotints. Revisions, the iconoclastic sprawl of Lalla Essaydi's henna. Springtime, nineteen minutes of Jeroen Eisinga being enveloped by a cape of bees. Zodiac and Fragments, two monumental Ai Weiwei sculptures. If only for aesthetic reasons, Zodiac should have its permanent home in the Hirschhorn's rotunda; it sings within that architectural chasm.
