I think about the irony of what it is to live in a glass house. I am on a tour of the Johnson House in New Canaan with an artist I know and feel like the kid in a candy store that is allowed to have the pick of the place, almost, but is somehow missing out on some of the best parts, the parts we are not allowed to explore, like the climbing structure seen off in the distance (top photo). I am in heaven in this space that I learned so much about in art school. I can't believe I am inside looking out, or outside looking in for that matter. I want to spend time there, sit and sketch, and sketch some more. I think about all of the times I have ridden by the place on my bike and wondered just what I was looking at from the road. Now that I know, I want to experience it again and again and again...I wonder just what type of work will erupt from this experience, will it explode or ooze out? Will it be dynamic or subtle?
More to contemplate while I am riding!
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