Last night I visited the Steven Parrino exposition at Palais du Tokyo. There were only four other people in the exhibit -- how nice! I almost touched some of the paintings before remembering that you´re not supposed to. The nature of these paintings just beg for them to be touched and it wouldn´t hurt them much, and without any security guards or other people to stop me, why shouldn´t I?


Palais du Tokyo is a very interesting space. It has an aesthetic that fits between that of an unfinished or deconstructued gallery space and a decorative warehouse. The scale of rooms, in addition to the wooden rafters and cement floor reminded me of some amateur art space found in Middle America, like something found in Omaha or even the MoCAD in Detroit (and not too different from the beloved Hotel Basico). Of course, most of Parrino´s work added to this ambiance. His rock ´n´ roll working-class subject matter (or what amounts to a lot of black, sex, and noise) complemented a colorful series of Warhol´s electric chairs.



For about twenty minutes I thought I was back at home.



For the next week Rodrigo is in Spain and in the meantime he (generously) has lent me control of his apartment. Now I have a temporary office space sheltered from the elements (spontaneous rainstorms, dissatisfied waitstaff, finicky internet) to work on my final presentations. It has a fridge, a shower, a toilet with a seat -- quelle chance! The only downside is the computer I must use for my research (not only is it a PC, but it has a Spanish keyboard). My own computer has for the most part become useless. It won´t take CDs, it loads very slowly, shuts down on a whim and, worst of all, it won´t hold a charge. Why couldn´t it hold out for another couple of weeks?

Though I may not talk about it, I´m panicking about returning to the States. Is it out of denial, resistance, or excitement? I can´t tell. I just know I´m very, very worried about the next year of my life.

Music:
New Order - Temptation
Jens Lekman - Black Cab