Look with your eyes, not with your hands.


Such a minute fraction of this life do we live: so much is sleep, tooth-brushing, waiting for mail, for metamorphosis, for those sudden moments of incandescence: unexpected, but once one knows them, one can live life in the light of their past and the hope of their future.



A grad student muses on her life, film, friends, politics, reality televizzle, and music.

 
the definitive site for all you would be social chairs out there.

So I met the rest of the Gugg interns today. 3 boys about 12 girls, life is unfair sometimes. I felt very comfortable with the group instantly, like I had known them much longer than an hour. I sort of graduated to the big kid table by lunch, eating with three graduate students, all of whom had recently finished a master's or were on the verge of writing a brilliant disseration (I felt like such a lowly undergrad). They all seemed cool and friendly and perhaps being a little older / looking a little older worked to my advantge and it seemed I sort of belonged in that clique. Not that there is anything wrong with the undergrads, but it's just such a female-centric intern clan, and we all know how many female friendships I have been able to develop over the years. For some reason meeting an articulate british grad student who is 25 is very different than a skinny girl who just spent her junior year abroad. My, my, how we have grown, huh? I was pleasantly surprised with the group and our intern director is much more pleasant in person that he has in our on-going phonetag games.

For our activity today we discussed the future of museums broadly, curatorial and art arranging philosophies; comparing a display of Kandinsky / Chagall / Picassos at the Gugg with a gallery of our choice at the nearby Met. It turned out to be quite the toasty afternoon and we discussed our observations on the roof in the hot sun, beneath the menacing profile of a giant pointy, Oldenburg diaper pin.

Afterwards, I went back to the museum and got my official intern id card. It's much more professional looking than that business card wrapped in scotch tape that MoMA claimed was an id; this has a photo and it laminated in a high quality fashion. In order to get the id I had to fill out this paper with my birthdate and weight (none of their business) and I actually had to get fingerprinted "for the files." I felt like a felon, but I guess if I make off with a priceless gem of a Mondrian or something, they can prove I took it. Darn. Then I was basically done for the day, around 4pm. The problem with one Gugg being an hour away from another is that it chops up your day into awkward mouthfuls. Oh yes, one thing that makes the trek up to 1070 5th Ave worthwhile - staff discount at the cafe - I don't think a New York $5 lunch of a tomato and mozzeralla sandwich, fruit, and a soda - has tasted that good since the last day at MoMA and Brian, Lauren and I cried about the loss of the best eatery we had ever collectively known. The Gugg sandwich is good, but not as good as the chicken fajita wrap or the bread with the "schmutz," right kids?

Today is the first day that the tiredness has set in... I am going to take it easy, work on my Ron Brown weekly journal entry, and maybe make a little progress on the Frank Lloyd Wright bio I got in a used bookstore near NYU, krick - it was next door to your favorite NYU area bistro, "Gonzalez y Gonzalez."
posted by lmjasinski at 8:05 PM