When you set out to do something, the sensible part of you knows not what to expect, but it is the irrational being inside of you, that thrives off of this uncertainty. It keeps you walking for consecutive hours; even after that engagement with the drunken beggar and the smoker who thought it a good deed to share his fumes with bystanders. Centre Pompidou was unlike any other gallery experience. Essentially, it is a gallery, with a library at it's core... Judging by the quality of the gallery, the collection of texts could only follow suit - sheer epicness.
Where does my rant begin ? Jean-Michel Basquiat ? Jeff Koons ? Malachi Farrell ? Walter LeBlanc ?
If we were to erect a monument in order to define the word aware, Centre Pompidou would be it. Never have I visited a place that was so gingerly aware of it's role and power, not only to stimulate minds in a creative capacity, but also to inspire a sociopolitical awareness regarding even the most mundane aspects of our humanity.
Dinner was served at Ferdi...
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