Sunday Culture and a little weirdness

Ah…Kansas City-you have done it again. You successfully avoided being named both “Possum Trot” and “Rabbitville”, progressed past just being a cow town and into a cultural mecca. However, I can still wear cowboy boots and not be judged (hint, hint New York).

I cannot deny my love for you.

I shucked my heels and wore sensible flats this time, knowing I would be at the Nelson-Atkins Museum forever. My first stop-this lovely Eames chair. Can a chair be more pure, more beautiful, more simple? Sure, you could have some fancy throne covered in lambs wool and overstuffed to the gills. And you may argue that it is indeed more comfortable. And, you might be right.

But, I would still choose this chair every time.

Turning the corner, I ran smack dab into this Jackson Pollock painting. Be still my coffee-beating heart. I have loved this artist since my first encounter with his work and have not lost my affection yet.

I see a wolf and a lady. What do you see?

This painting had my attention for a solid 15 minutes. The vibrant colors were gorgeous and the darkening sky was beautifully ominous. Some amazingly talented human, with only a brush and some oil paint created this on a white canvas.

I’m happy if I can draw a straight line.

This Subodh Gupta Egg was made exclusively of silver utensils and objects-and signifies the new India.

For some unknown reason, I was drawn to it. I’m a girl. I like shiny things.

I call this one, “Fancy Peas”. It was untitled, so I took liberties with it. Hope that’s alright with Mr. Alexander Ross. (Mr. Ross, maybe you should name your pieces and morons like me wouldn’t take liberties.)

This, of course, reminded me of a cat-a Native American cat. Possibly of the KittenMeow tribe.
(Brad Kahlhamer: Bowery Nation)

I saved the best for last. This installation-“Chromoplastic Mural” by Luis Tomasello (who was 96 at the time) was bold and unique, and the perfect resting spot for my little feet.

The floor is an acceptable place to hang out in a museum, right?

The Sunflower State is Friggin’ Awesome

Dear Readers:

Did you know that I’m from Kansas? I mean, technically I’m from Landstuhl, Germany. But, do the first three years of your life really count?
And did you know that I’m in Kansas right now? Be still my beating heart.

Kansas is where I claim to have grown up. My childhood consisted of sunflower fields, cows, tornadoes, coyotes (pronounced ki-yoat) and snakes. And all that was found just in my backyard.

Due to my extreme nostalgia, it’s no small wonder that sunflowers are my favorite flowers-second only to daffodils. I would drag these ginormous yellow and brown beauties into the house, sending my extremely allergic brother to the brink of insanity. Sorry, Pat. I thought you were just being a wuss and trying to get out of work. We didn’t know about allergies back then.

Heck, I didn’t even know about salad dressing back then.

The only thing better than being in Kansas, is being in my hometown of Manhattan, Kansas at Vista. And eating french fries with my parents while the Beatles play on the jukebox. (But, that’s a whole other side story.)

However, I’m not in Manhattan-I’m in Kansas City, which is the fancy part of Kansas. Unlike Manhattan, Kansas City has museums, real shopping, “districts”, and a major league baseball team. As a little kid, I was always intimidated by Kansas City and thought the kids here were cooler than I was.

I bet they even knew about salad dressing.

I joined Biceps on a overnight work gig, so while he is hard at work, I’m going to go see things like this at the Nelson-Atkins Museum.

And things like this. All. By. Myself. I won’t have to hurry up when I want to stay, or linger when I want to move on.

Let’s review the facts about today:
I’m in Kansas
I’m going to a museum-alone!
Biceps is simultaneously making us money
My meals are paid for

The verdict is: Kansas is friggin’ awesome.