Recently I met my beloved at the MOMA garden before we looked at the Sigmar Polke exhibit “Alibis”. Most of our dates revolve around art, music and theater. It was a treat to connect while looking at boisterous statues, listening to splashy water fountains and dodging aggressive tourists. I thank summer for bringing us together at dusk. The Polke show was fascinating because his work offered cunning variety. Throughout his five decades of art production all pieces were witty, irreverent and inspiring. Especially, I found enjoyment in the elements of his techniques, enchantment by his sustained will to experiment and in awe of his expressive, prolific nature. His work seemed to be filled with “love of life”.
When we returned to our humble abode full of NYC cultural wonder, there was a movie being played in the schoolyard behind the facilities. It all seemed so pleasant and summery. We listened in vain to see if we could sense what movie was being screened but it was too distorted. More importantly, we were deciding on the amount of tequila for our margaritas and the choice of the movie we intended to watch on the television. I later learned how various neighbors complained bitterly on a chat site online about the movie’s amplification. I can only wonder what kind of sourpuss lives they are leading. People say they want “community” but when that community is loud for one night they seem to freak out. Can they not understand that being open – minded is the price we sometimes pay for having living breathing healthy communities? Besides it is summer, aren’t people allowed to be a little loud, wild and crazy? Not that this outdoor movie qualified as such, since it seemed like a family-friendly musical and it was over well before 11PM, (which is the legal limit for noise in NYC). The movie we selected to watch was an adorable French film called RUMBA. It was a typical French comedy, very corny! Basically it involved a young couple who were teachers at the same school. They were also amateur competing rumba dancers but as pratfall, automobile mishap and chaos ensue the female character (Fiona Gordon) loses her leg and he (Dominique Abel) loses his mind. Both principle actors/dancers were also the directors, along with Bruno Romy. Despite this crazy collection of setbacks, they still kept the pleasant, silly vibe going. The film offered every stunt gag imaginable but it never got tedious. Probably by then, the tequila was working its magic on our Friday night.
Winter is so physically limiting since wearing layers and layers of protection against the cold is far from the casual luxury of sandals and a sundress while sitting in a beautiful outdoor garden waiting for your beloved to arrive. Seems like winter wears me out and summer restores me. It has always been that way for me. Summer frees me to think “deep thoughts” like my new theory about age. We are only one age: alive or dead. Either, we are alive and therefore spontaneously permitting shared fun-loving possibilities as they become available. Or we are dead and frustrated because controlling community expressions during the height of summer is ripe material for an early grave. If I were to offer a word of advice to my angered neighbors, please step outside feel the night air on your skin, look up at the stars and realize we are all stardust. There has got to be some humor in that.