A few weeks ago Henry mentioned that at some point he would like the two of us to go to the museum together, preferably on a Friday when music and food were involved. I was less than overjoyed at the idea (I’m a terrible artist) but agreed as his enthusiasm for the plan far surpassed my general hesitancy to go to museums.
Today we started out by drinking way too much coffee. I, annoyed at myself for being intimidated, decided it was high time we went to The Coffee Collective. Henry worked his coffee charm as I wandered next door to acquire a chocolate croissant from Laura’s Bakery (I’m obsessed, you guys. Nothing has ever tasted this good). I came back to a little corner with some stools and Henry put on Macklamore’s ‘Downtown’ while we waited for our pour overs.
What a delicious treat.
The pair of us, most days, are the most over caffeinated, hipster-iest of the hipsters. But we’re very happy to hold that title.
We were desperate to work off some of our jitters so we wandered close by the Christmas market and found our way into another church. Not quite so unassuming as the first. this new one was lined with gorgeous statues. People seemed to be setting up for a choir concern or something, so church ambiance was…less than present.
We were starting to get hangry after all of our wanderings and after deciding that bananas and dates weren’t enough, we went back towards the Coffee Collective and ate some truly disappointing Paleo food. I, cranky as ever, listened to Henry say (in what I’m sure was meant to be a calming comment) “You just have to think of it as fuel. You just need some fuel and we can get to the museum”. Confident that somehow my father had gotten a hold of him and said those exact words to repeat to me later, I left as he journaled and found more food for myself before we walked to the train station.
A train! It’s little things like being on a train that really hit home the fact that we’re in Europe.
We got to the Louisiana museum and headed straight for the Kusama exhibit. I was vaguely familiar with her but couldn’t place how I knew about the iconic artist. The exhibit was unbelievable. I was so lost in all of it. I wanted to go out immediately and buy some paint and start making things. We walked through most of what was on display before going and eating dinner and coming back around to look at it all again. I want desperately to describe it better, but her work speaks better for itself.
I had crazy dreams that night and haven’t stopped thinking about her giant canvases since.
Also, while we wandered through the rest of the museum we saw four photographs by Robert Mapplethorpe (one of the young artists in love from the book, Just Kids. We took it as a good omen.)