No avocados with my art, please.

So it appears that some of you are wondering where else heaven would be but up in the sky. Since I am not predisposed to think of it as a place, I was thinking more about what heaven means as an idea. It's such a universal notion and yet such a strange one - but then, evolutionary wise, we always have been motivated by the idea of perfection, haven't we? Maybe that's the place to start.

Anyway, just back from a few 'perfect' days in London. Went to several galleries. The Tate is wild
- a huge power plant converted to a gallery (somewhat bigger than the Power Plant in Toronto, but an equally good idea). Still working on photos, but will post some once I've sorted that out. Also saw a showing of portraits of Frida Kahlo which were gorgeous - hadn't seen many of them. And a new installation by Jenny Holzer (Museum of Modern Art, Dia: Chelsea, Hamburger Kuntshalle, etc.) , best known for her truisms but in this latest work, using another poet's work. Also the V&A for a wander through their costume collection and the Serpentine Gallery to see the newest from Turner Prize (2000) nominee, Tomoko Takahashi. The sort of show that makes you think: okay...so what is art anyway? But by the end of it - after wandering through a mess of familiar and generally utilitarian objects, you realize there is a guiding hand there - someone who has seen these things in a particular way and wants to share that. Ah, so we arrive at today's question, I think: What is art? But, since that's such a boring question really, how about this challenge:

Define art in one sentence without using the words aesthetic, beauty, creativity, crap, or avocado (or variations thereof).

The best part about London was meeting up with a couple of old friends. Met up with Lisa, who I knew from McGill and went to this great little bar in Soho called Akbar (a good one to remember if you're ever in town). Also got in touch with Amina, another friend from McGill who I haven't seen in10 years! She's gotten herself married and is the mother of an absolutely gorgeous 10 month old girl. We spent the afternoon lazing about in Hyde park with some scrumptious Lebanese food and a bottle of wine. Really, this is not the London I remember, but I'll take it!

And since I'm getting into far too much detail, I will stop now. Again, photos will emerge from the virtual ether sometime soon.

s.

First day

An uneventful flight. Arrived in Reading at about 2:30pm. Had a bit of a nap, made some phone calls, ate dinner.

Had some more thoughts about heaven. I'm curious about the idea, having just spent an inordinate amount of time on the wrong side of the clouds. Why this ideal place in the sky? What does it mean? Is it simply the name for that last moment before you kick it? A chance to recognize your little piece in everything?

Random thoughts on the subject are welcome.

s.

p.s. hands up those of you who still believe you can walk on clouds.