Untitled No. 11 Mark Rothko
The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art
Monday I start chemo. It could have been Friday, but I want to feel good for this weekend’s camp out. Robbie and I will go out Friday night, ahead of the rest of the Boy Scout troop who will be out next morning. I think it’s important, this trip.
Insurance gods willing, I will be taking chemo as a daily pill, rather than the various injection schemes which will take me out of work more and have more concentrated side effects. You all know the strength I get from my job. It’s a gift I hate to waste.
I found out today we have a one-eyed curator here.
You know what’s bothering me most right now? The hair thing. Not the loss; it’ll grow back. It’s the shock. I’m trying to prepare the people around me for the coming of the going of the hair.
I should try to notice and keep track of the responses of the surprised. “What happened to your hair!?!” versus, “What did you do to your hair!?!” Is it something I did? or something that happened to me from the outside? That’s a question I ask a lot about this whole disease. Is it something I did? or something god did to me? The Doctors are all a bit baffled by me (join the party docs). I don’t have the behaviors, other symptoms or age that usually lead to this sort of thing. Is the reason within me or outside of me?
Of course, the Dancing Shiva.
He keeps dancing, life goes on and I am reminded that the healthiest thing to do is take myself out of the equation, by seeing no need for the equation. It simply is. The only direction is forward. Ego wants me to look backward.
That’s why I love abstract art. It is healthiest when I take myself out of the equation by realizing there is no equation and letting it be what it is, and do what it does. That’s when I become truly involved in it, and it in me.
That’s why Rothko’s Untitled No. 11 completely baffles so many people, yet completely engulfs others. It not only requires a loss of ego to enter, it inspires the viewer to leave himself and his questions behind.
Come on in, look around, explore. Check your ego at the door. (poetry unintended but I like it.)
peace, love,
d
February 7, 2008 at 8:43 pm |
Rothko may baffle some people, and engulf others, but not me.
Whenever I hear the name Rothko, I see red — literally.
I immediately think of a red painting, a dark rectangle on top of a red background. Is that in the Nelson or another gallery? And if the Nelson has it, where is it hiding?
February 7, 2008 at 9:21 pm |
We’re sorry about the pills and their effects on your scalp. But what does Sophie think?
I imagine she’s been giving Maryanna a dirty look that suggests, “Oh, fine! You let HIM shed!”
February 8, 2008 at 2:20 am |
He did do some red things. I’m pretty sure saint has some Rothkos. They may have a red one.
As long as you don’t get the urge to charge into it, seeing red’s okay.
February 9, 2008 at 2:17 am |
Don’t worry about the hair. Mine went south years ago. no big deal.
February 11, 2008 at 8:04 pm |
Dave -
One of the first things Ali said when we told her you were heading to chemo was “wow he’ll lose his hair” then she followed it up by saying you could definitely pull off the full pirate look with a bandana and patch. So you have one teen thinking you are gonna be cool.
Love all of ya’ll!!!
February 13, 2008 at 12:15 am |
The Mr. Clean look is OK as long as you don’t start going into ladies’ bathrooms and kitchens unannounced, even if you ARE just pushing cleaning products on them.
Good luck with all of this. I am looking forward to having the rhythm section return to my next-door cubicle in no time!