Dear Baton Rouge,
We have met before. Back in 2011 I believe, was the first time I saw you. It was hot as usual, and took a bus on a Saturday to get to you. It was my first ride out of New Orleans and I believe I was really excited to get there.
I was carrying a large, restored, wooden cupboard with some lace teacups that were to be set for the Art Melt Show. I don't remember the exact reason for the argument but at the bus station a woman working at Subway started yelling at me. I left my little box to go look for a policeman who just grinned sarcastically and told me he was sorry about the issue but he couldn't do anything about it. I assumed they were friends and most likely have a blast from the incident. As I turned around I saw this woman cleaning the tables around her, but most important, close to where my cupboard was.
Defeated I went back in a hurry to get my wooden box and got into the bus. I was really happy to leave that incident behind me.
To be honest, I never had an idea of what to expect from Baton Rouge, I was just worried of getting the piece in time for the show. After walking some really large blocks, I finally got to the Capitol Park Museum, sweating from the humidity and the weight of the cabinet, to find out the woman that I had to deliver the piece to, had left 15 minutes before and there was no one I could leave the piece with. When someone from the Museum located her, she carelessly responded I could come back on Monday.
So, yes, I wasn't in the best mood when we met. I was frustrated and mad at the fact I didn't have enough money to rent a car or dared to ask for any of my friends to take me there (which is what you have to do). So I took my heavy cupboard back to New Orleans and on Monday did the same thing I did on Saturday.
Baton Rouge take two. As I got to the Museum, I was delivering the cupboard with it's contents when I realised I was missing a teacup. The shadow of the "Subway incident" came to my mind. But the woman receiving the art work, who knew artists too well, assumed I was making that up, and that I hadn't finished the piece for the show. I was about to tell her the story of the woman I got into a fight on Saturday but I just skipped the whole thing and told her I would make an extra piece for the opening of the show.
I was shocked because the Subway woman that took the lace teacup never knew the impact of her actions (meaning hours of the work involved in each) but after delivering the piece I forced myself to do some sightseeing. I wanted to leave the anger aside the experience and I guess in a way I managed to do so. I can't remember where I wrote this but I felt I was in an Ayn Rand movie set. Specially where I wandered, around the Capitol Building, there was a sense of time being frozen.
On my way back to New Orleans, I sat for a long while waiting for the bus looking at the people. Just as you would expect at a bus station in Mexico, mostly low-income people were there. There was a man that had lost all it's teeth, yapping about some issue with her ole' lady who, speaking at the same time, was complaining about his drinking problem. The woman with long, perfectly decorated nails that had seven or eight kids, all moving around or looking at their cell phone screens, sometimes hitting each other out of boredom and creating an unsolved havoc. The usual drug consuming fellas that got from time to time into the bathroom, too uneasy and sketchy to let me be completely relaxed at the whole experience.
A month after, I remember that night, it was beautiful, we all had dinner and went to the opening of my first official show. I felt all problems aside, I had managed to get that small piece into a US, State Museum and congratulated my ass for it.
Next year, I participated in another show with Art Melt and felt the same happy way. Now, whether these small interactions with you Baton Rouge make me fell a deep appreciation of your rare beauty, of the grandiose sense you carry within, I don't really care. I guess it just makes me entitled to care for you this much. So, be really careful, try to keep yourselves safe, skim through information and act wisely.
I was carrying a large, restored, wooden cupboard with some lace teacups that were to be set for the Art Melt Show. I don't remember the exact reason for the argument but at the bus station a woman working at Subway started yelling at me. I left my little box to go look for a policeman who just grinned sarcastically and told me he was sorry about the issue but he couldn't do anything about it. I assumed they were friends and most likely have a blast from the incident. As I turned around I saw this woman cleaning the tables around her, but most important, close to where my cupboard was.
Defeated I went back in a hurry to get my wooden box and got into the bus. I was really happy to leave that incident behind me.
To be honest, I never had an idea of what to expect from Baton Rouge, I was just worried of getting the piece in time for the show. After walking some really large blocks, I finally got to the Capitol Park Museum, sweating from the humidity and the weight of the cabinet, to find out the woman that I had to deliver the piece to, had left 15 minutes before and there was no one I could leave the piece with. When someone from the Museum located her, she carelessly responded I could come back on Monday.
So, yes, I wasn't in the best mood when we met. I was frustrated and mad at the fact I didn't have enough money to rent a car or dared to ask for any of my friends to take me there (which is what you have to do). So I took my heavy cupboard back to New Orleans and on Monday did the same thing I did on Saturday.
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| Capitol Building |
I was shocked because the Subway woman that took the lace teacup never knew the impact of her actions (meaning hours of the work involved in each) but after delivering the piece I forced myself to do some sightseeing. I wanted to leave the anger aside the experience and I guess in a way I managed to do so. I can't remember where I wrote this but I felt I was in an Ayn Rand movie set. Specially where I wandered, around the Capitol Building, there was a sense of time being frozen.
On my way back to New Orleans, I sat for a long while waiting for the bus looking at the people. Just as you would expect at a bus station in Mexico, mostly low-income people were there. There was a man that had lost all it's teeth, yapping about some issue with her ole' lady who, speaking at the same time, was complaining about his drinking problem. The woman with long, perfectly decorated nails that had seven or eight kids, all moving around or looking at their cell phone screens, sometimes hitting each other out of boredom and creating an unsolved havoc. The usual drug consuming fellas that got from time to time into the bathroom, too uneasy and sketchy to let me be completely relaxed at the whole experience.
A month after, I remember that night, it was beautiful, we all had dinner and went to the opening of my first official show. I felt all problems aside, I had managed to get that small piece into a US, State Museum and congratulated my ass for it.
Next year, I participated in another show with Art Melt and felt the same happy way. Now, whether these small interactions with you Baton Rouge make me fell a deep appreciation of your rare beauty, of the grandiose sense you carry within, I don't really care. I guess it just makes me entitled to care for you this much. So, be really careful, try to keep yourselves safe, skim through information and act wisely.
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