breathing broad
words by kelby vera
photos by donna granata
[one_half padding=”0 10px 0 0″]
I.
in 2008 i had my first climb up the red escalator
giggling at koons, smirking at warhols, gasping at baldessaris
the electricity of knowing you are around important things
sinking down the epic barbara kruger elevator and swooning
(the elevator that is now only open for special occasions)
bleary and elated from all the smoking in the car
insecure and bright eyed
this is all old hat now
but for an 18 year old girl
whose only experience was AP art history
i was on fire for the first time
and that feeling is what kept me coming back to art
III.
at LACMA’s 50th anniversary celebration, i make my rounds
sliding through the plaza, i pick up a cookie with the number 50 sugar dusted on it
jazz is playing and people are picnicking
i make an appointment to go look at lights and make time to drink two whole beers in the meantime
sitting down in the turrell, i get yelled at
i don’t get yelled at
when i sit in the middle
of the richard serra,
but i know its only a matter of time
i compare the steely beats
of my young heart
tracing the rust for the first time
so long ago
with the density of my tailbone
pressed to the ground,
body surrounded by waves of iron.
i could sit here all day i think
i could live here if i tried
back outside a cannonball adderly tribute is in full swing
the brassy beat makes me walk with uncharacteristic swing.
hips controlling my motion and my nose just ever so slightly perspiring,
i’m a pair of drinks in and short of breath.
(the way you let something sit in the sun for just a little too long
because you just can’t help that you love the way it sparkles)
this is home.
[/one_half]
[one_half_last padding=”0 0 0 10px”]
II.
the next time i heard about the broad, i was 19
i was just falling into art at community college.
dipping my toes in art history classes
one of our instructors offered extra credit
to go to the santa monica city council meeting and show support for the city’s bid.
“did you know the broads have airport hangars filled with their collection”
even more than the treasure chest at LACMA
i dreamt of the unseen jewels of the broad
as if someone whispered in my ear a secret;
something to look forward to.
–
LACMA is as strange as home
something you take for granted but
feels so damn safe
my favorite smell
is fresh white paint
drying and waiting
IV.
inside i am jonah,
the walls roll over me like grey sands, blankets to your ears
which is good
because some walls
make me nervous.
the cubicles of history
neatly packaged,
almost pert with ‘greatest hits’
i rip my tights on an ornamental stump in the courtyard,
a bumper car to the world
like that mfa-clot in jeff koon’s studio
blue chips stuck in my teeth
inside-out of place
–
at the press conference
Eli swats at a huge black carpenter bee.
the clattering of porcelain
and clutter of
camera clicks
–
walking into kusama’s mirrored room,
a glittering cavern of memory
the pool that surrounds the lights that surround me
and i melt through this gallery
i remember the first time i melted like this
and i am so different from then
and this place is so different from that
but i know that someone else is going to see this
and feel the same way i did then
climbing up that red escalator
and it’s stupid that it comes full circle
but it seems to be the way of things
[/one_half_last]
