Art snobbery! Last night, we checked out the hot Jean-Michel Basquiat exhibit at the MOCA. Mostly, because Shockley had told me to, but also because MOCA is free on Thursday nights. Walking through the exhibit, looking at the astoundingly huge and dense collection and Basquiat's astoundingly huge and dense range of evocation, I felt like I was listening to Fela Kuti. And/or Art Ensemble of Chicago. Something sort of African, free-jazzy, possibly some sampledelic hip hop. See, I have no words for art other than music, and I can only make aesthetic connections to listening to music. That's why my entire final paper for African-American Narrative was about Ornette Coleman and Shoenberg, with very little about the actual writers. Anyway, between this and bombing with my Seattle bros over the summer, I now want to be a graffiti artist; except, of course, my total lack of any artistic skill whatsoever. Otherwise, you'd see my tag in your sleep: I'm tellin' you.
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