It IS about the journey and not the goal

The title is a platitude, certainly, but I realized how true it is only today when Marzina and I saw the Ashile Gorky exhibit at the Phila Museum of Art.

We spent the first 20 minutes at the Information Booth getting her eyeglasses fixed. A security guard plus two museum volunteers struggled to do minor surgery over her broken eyeglasses, finally finding the requisite tiny pin and scotch tape to hold her glasses together so she could see. What commendable service from the museum.

How would Gorky himself have painted the scene? I can visualize it now.

I won't go too much into the amazing life story of Gorky, which is bracketed by his horrid childhood where his Armenian family was on a forced march during the Turk's genocide of the Armenians, and his beloved mother dying in his arms of starvation. A famous painting of the two of them is in the exhibition. Gorky's life in between the horrors was a very good one which included many teaching posts and friendships with the great artists of his time. A self-taught artist, he imitated the seminal contemporary artists such as Cezanne, Picasso, Leger,and then after satisfying himself with his education, became truly himself.

Gorky is a pseudonym after the great Russian writer who had also taken a pseudonym.

At the end of his life tragedy struck in many horrible ways. He ended up dying by his own hand at age 44 in the year 1948.

Here on my desk I have the purple clip-on pin from the Art Museum. I love souvenirs like this. I made two collages from my November trip to Europe so I could remember my experiences. Hung on the living room wall is the huge slate-gray shopping bag from La Pedrera, the apartment dwelling designed by Gaudi, plus lots of ticket stubs and cuttings from museum catalogs.

The gunpowder paintings of Cai Guo-Quiang hung in the corridor of a faraway gallery. Overhead hung his 99 Golden Boats radiating light. Here's a short video about Cai.

Being in the Presence of Greatness, whether in the form of artists in a museum, or outdoors in the greatness of nature, is something I think every human being should aspire to.

Our journey to the art museum concluded by walking to Marzina's car in the lower parking lot. Upon exiting the building, we were greeted by a vast panorama. The distant Schuylkill River was an inviting blue, a gazebo winked on our left, careful going down the steps, Ruthie, you don't wanna trip and go boom!, oh, so many steps, littered with salt, but then I must look up at the vista, I thank Marzina for taking me to the museum.

On the way home, I stopped off at Mom's. The woman is deluding herself that she's gonna move out. But so what? I always said, Stay in your house until you die. We all have certain delusions. Mine is that I'll actually finish my novel.

When I left, a man was walking his dog. He didn't look up to say hello. This is a hallmark in her neighborhood. Very unfriendly. Well, I was not in a hurry, so as I descended down the snow-covered grass to my car, I called out, "What a cute dog!"

Great conversation breaker. I'll teach that when I run my Connexions Group. It's sooo important to connect with other people.

I had a 15-minute conversation with Dmytro and stopped to pet Puccini every so often. Dmytro is a music teacher, among other things, and belongs to 4 different choruses. He's also webmaster at his Ukrainian church in Jenkintown. His dog was wearing a little black coat with a pocket in it.

What dyou suppose is in that pocket? A love letter?