spoof? reality. I blame You-Tube. Renaissance Lady offered a wild treat.

I've been browsing the book "Paint Made Flesh." This week, I saw the exhibit at the Phillips Collection in DC. The book is also fascinating. It's a collection of artist from around the world, mostly the art pieces are oils on paints, and for decades  the book and the exhibition was in the preplanning. The book is edited by Mark W. Scala. He is the Chief Curator. His first and last sentence in the Acknowledgement and Appreciation Page is:`

1 ) Certain exhibitions are unconsciously conceived over decades, just waiting for the triggers that will draw them from dormancy (the first sentence) and (this is the last sentence).

 - ) It is my hope that 'Paint Made Flesh' will connect with the life experiences of our visitors in a similar fashion. Mark W. Scala. Chief Curator. For me:` It's a (human 'dunamis' experience ) powerful exhibit that can stir the dormant consciousness. Thanks to those who shared. Thanks for a focus on post-war-trauma. I recall a post war exhibit in DC in the seventies by Vietnam Veterans.

I walked silently through the rooms of crude art, and some great. There were many war photographs. I can still see them in my minds eye. I spoke to no one. I walked back to my pickup truck. On the seat was a apple. I tried to take a bite. My jaw was tense from witnessing the post-war-exhibit. I could not open my mouth.

Eventually, I pried my jaw open. Tears flowed for quite a few years each time I tried to speak. The gnawing and gnash of teeth? Hell. Maybe if you support war and profit from war:` you get to know what I'm trying to communicate some day in karma's natural unfolding. okay. Wait and see.

`

At The Phillips Collection:`

In the exhibition:`Paint Made Flesh. 

There were no Picasso's blooming flowers. The painting and book is not a sense of cultural beauty. There is no carved wood door from Florence to enter the exhibit through ... but, it is also not a stop and pause of the Mind.... experience of viewing ... beautiful or ugly. It is just what it was. It's about change. Likewise, in our brief lifespan, everything, including our own body includes beatiful and the ugly, life and death.

There are moments each day in the daily routine of living, outside the wonderful Phillips Collections collection of Masterpieces, witness  the innumerable and intimate portraits of human beings trying to survive.

We live. They live, and we all walk, and eat and talk, sleep, and breathe. We can see austere beauty and quiet dignity (Dakotsu IIda) everywhere. We witness the raw, intimate, animated portraits in the living flesh, blood, and skeletal bones all around. That, if we open our heart/mind/soul to observe the phenomena. Yet, we miss so much with a worrisome and cluttered Mind.

What a divine milieu. 

Visit someone passing away in hospice despair. Care. It is you? A human body is in despair. Degradation of the body that will be wasting away is reality. Corruption. And, there is something else ... Emily Dickinson wrote "a certain slant of light" with the heat of warm fingers. Gestures. Notice Parts of the body that were taken for granted? Hair, nails, eyebrows, and witness the overall wondrous beauty.

No one wishes to be ill. Illness can be a journey of self-discovery. Transformations, and this is the courage we people need to muster, individually.

Individually. Care.

If we have the courage to care we may smell the rancid stench. We are holy fools on an individual journey. One day we gasp. If we care we have no crippling fears.

I wanted to write something serious this morning. It's so goofy and down right often too absurd to find appropriate words. I haven't processed my own personal war, street-life, and just living on this Earth's shock trauma existence yet.

Renaissance  Lady's post about accidently deleting a comment set me off into a loco motion to share this post about daytime comments. Well, just so we be gentle, kind, and learn from others, and sometimes be fierce .... and indite the real ill troublesome souls.

The You-Tube Renaissance Lady offered:`reminded me of a few persons I've encountered in my Life's allegorical journey. They had multiple scars from cutting their wrist veins. Sadly, one would whip "it" out in public and urinate in the streets. His partner would do a dump in her pants britches, and both would look up, and  then down the street.

The city street were their territory, and they knew the urban street curb. They'd open wide their eyes to see if anyone was watching them. Why? If no one was watching them ... in a dignified manner ... they would pick up the tossed-out to the curb, the cigarettes. The smokes-puffs with with the bright red lipstick were their favorites.

I asked:`What can I do to help you critters?

We need some good grits and a place to dump.

Once we get our lives patched up we want to help.

They wanted to get washed up and become lawyers.