A few days ago, in those last golden days before returning to tom-schoolery, I was catching up on all the museum going I had been lazy about all summer and so I dragged my ass to the Guggenheim for the Louise Bourgeois exhibition. Two things of note happened while there:
1) I was wearing a little jacket with three buttons on it. I began the exhibit at the top of the Guggenheim and as soon as I arrived at the top and was about to begin the journey down to the lobby, a button fell off my jacket and landed so that it started rolling down the spiral hall. It went faster and faster. Instead of chasing it and risk looking like a total idiot, I simply watched as people watched the button rolled past them down and down and down the hall. They probably thought it was art.
2) Bourgeois' cell series totally gave me a panic attack. The cells are basically psychological interpretations of domestic spaces and peeking in on each one gave me a profound sense of dread. My legs started tingling and for a good hour there I was convinced that the cells had given me muscular dystrophy or something horrible.
Long story short? Excellent exhibition if you're the type of person who enjoys a good horror movie; not recommended for hypochondriacs.
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