Boy Leading a Horse
Last weekend, I went with a friend to see The Steins Collect at the Metropolitan Museum. I made a special effort to see the exhibit because of the incredible impact on art and culture that the Steins had by virtue of their collecting. Many of the paintings in the exhibit were familiar; I’d seen them before either at the Met for those from its own collection, at other museums, or in books. Some, which have ended up in other private collections or in the collections of museums that I have not visited, were completely new to me.
Among the paintings in the exhibit is Picasso’s Boy Leading a Horse (which, as you can see from the link, the MOMA website currently indicates as “not on view”). I’ve seen the painting many times before at MOMA. The shift of location and context shook up my perceptions of the painting, and I indicated that to my friend. Another woman who was looking at the painting too engaged in the conversation. “It seems wrong here,” she said. “It’s a different view,” I replied. “It is disconcerting, but seeing it in different light, context, and company is enabling me to see new things in the painting and to find a more enhanced appreciation.”
I have been thinking this week, and talking about it in my classes, how a change of context can bring us new vision. How often, when things just keep going in a set pattern, do they collect dust and cobwebs (literally or figuratively)? I asked my therapeutic students whether they had preconceived notions about various challenges of embodiment, especially the chonic ones. Do you see them as part of your identity, something that causes you pain instead of giving you the joy of movement? What if you embraced being ever more conscious of alignment instead of being conscious of pain and limitation (and learning better and sooner when you cannot get out of injury without outside help)?
What of it? What of the change of perspective? After all, things get rearranged for us and the dissolution can be gradual or violent or something of both and be something of greater or lesser magnitude. Times of flux and dissoluti9on are the perpect time for questioning, for new vision, for discovering new ways to experience what had become too familiar, for seeing how one might wish to shift one’s own perspective for the good, to know and take responsibility for one’s own place and piece of this relationship to whatever it is that is shifting, dispersing, or dissolving., to seek to become unbound from the habitual binds of whatever invisible clothing we might be wearing.
Shortly after I took this picture, a young couple came and sat down in the two seats in the photo, which are at the back of the bus — they were the only seats together. The couple just sat down quietly and held hands; they weren’t even talking. The woman in the corner immediately sat upright and began cursing at them. She threatened them with calling the police because they were harassing her by following her. The bus driver, who was having a hard enough time dealing with cars cutting in and out of lanes in the stop and go traffic jam created by the Marine Corps Marathon street closings, advised her to calm down. She got louder and louder. The woman in front of me kept turning around to stare. I sat quietly, trying to send soothing energy. The bus driver suggested to the woman that the police were located just around the corner. He said he’d stop so that she could go get the police. “No, no,” she cried, “we are almost at my stop. I’ll be quiet,” and she became completely still and quiet. At the next stop, she stayed on and a few other people got off, so that the couple was able to find a seat elsewhere on the bus. For the rest of the trip, even with people standing, these three seats stayed open. Later, I went up front to ask the driver what exactly was the route for the marathon detour. It turned out to be a good detour for where I was going. I commended the driver on how quickly he calmed down the woman, acknowledging what a challenge it is to be a metrobus driver. He obviously appreciated my simple gesture (mostly people just criticize bus drivers) and shared a few recent stories. When I got off, I thanked him and wished him a good day.
