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Something looks different...

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"It is no longer the problem of feeling the poetic through a form. The structure exists there only as a support for the expressive gesture, the cut, and after it is finished, it has nothing to do with the traditional work of art. It is the state of 'art without art,' for the important thing is the act of doing that has nothing to do with the artist and everything to do with the spectator. By presenting this type of idea, the artist in reality presents this 'empty-full' in which all potentialities of the option that comes through the act take place. ... The act makes contemporary man aware that the poetic is not outside him but within him and that he had always projected it by means of the object called art."

- Lygia Clark, Brazilian artist (1920-1988)

I never would have guessed my art class would serve as my weekly therapy. I've never been so inspired as I am by Latin American art. Cannot WAIT to start my internship at miau miau gallery this week.

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Finally visited this hidden gem of the city: The Japanese Gardens

Endless footpaths around ponds filled with coy fish, incredible flora and fauna imported straight from Japan, a place to tie your wish crane (above photos), and an impeccable sushi restaurant. Well worth the 5 minute commute.

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Seen in Palermo

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What started out as a standard class trip to the Museum of Latin American Art swiftly transitioned into a swanky night out with the actual Buenos Aires art scene. I'm fairly certain my life is now a movie.

Thursday I went with my Art and the City class to see all the paintings and murals we've been studying in person. I've become acutely aware of the fact that seeing a work of art in a book and seeing a work of art in person are two completely different experiences. And between the Malba (Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires) and the Met, I'd say I've been pretty spoiled.

Here I must comment on how absolutely enamored I am with Latin American art and how it baffles me that I never encountered any of these artists in any art class I've had in the US. And now I could comment on how this must mean that something is profoundly wrong with American education, but I'll spare you that soapbox.

Anyhoo, after being blown away by Rivera, Siquieres, Xul Solar, and Berni (among others), I was in a pretty artsy mood, so I asked my professor if she could give me some pointers on breaking into the Buenos Aires art scene. Her response: "Do you want to go to a party?" There's only one answer to that question. Two words. (One is profane.) I wrote down the info for a gallery opening in San Telmo that she suggested I go to and so began this adventure.

To give some context, so far I've only gone out in groups of NYU students which, even when they're small, is not very conducive to 1) practicing Spanish or 2) making local friends. So I decided to fly solo on this gallery trip.

I walked in to the gallery and immediately felt out of place. For starters, I almost stepped on a lightbulb on the floor as passed through the door, which (the artist was quick to inform me) was one of the works on display. Then in a desperate attempt to socialize with the small group of people there, I walked up to a circle of people and asked if one guy (who was clearly the artist) was indeed the artist. And upon hearing that he was, the next logical question that came to mind was, "What's your name?" I realized how insulting/just plain stupid this must have sounded as soon as the words spewed out of my mouth. But I trekked on.

I ended up talking with two girls who work for arteBA, which is a contemporary art festival that takes place once a year in May. As with every Porteño I've encountered, these girls were incredibly friendly and easy to talk to. After wandering around the series of light bulb displays awkwardly for another 15 minutes or so, I walked out at the same time as the girls (kind of on purpose) and they invited me to come with them to another gallery. I considered the possibility of saying no for all of .1 seconds and then hopped in the cab. On to the next one.

We ended up at a gallery in Palermo that was hosting a party for an art/design magazine called Barzón. The gallery was inspiring and the people were eccentric and I was excited. So I grabbed a beer and dove in. Despite the fact that I was toting around my backpack, my daytime outfit, and a heavy American accent, people still talked to me like a normal human being. Which was refreshing.

I would never in a million years feel comfortable doing something like this in an art gallery in NYC. But something about speaking in another language makes maneuvering the social scene a bit easier. I've developed an alter ego to go along with my alter-language (word building here) mostly because I don't quite feel like myself when I speak Spanish. (And partially because it's just fun.) Words in Spanish don't have the same deep-rooted meaning for me. They just kind of slip off the tongue without much thought or emotion. Marco from the law department of my internship agrees. He told me he is trying to stop cussing (in his native language, Spanish) so he instead says the cuss words in English because he doesn't feel them as much. He meant to apologize to me in advance if he happened to let one slip, but I just found it hilarious and incredibly endearing.

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And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

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The art scene in Buenos Aires is shockingly progressive, given the lack of funding and exposure it gets here. It's practically impossible for an artist to sell work in Argentina--mainly because the inflation rate is through the roof and no one can afford to compete with international buyers. But it's precisely that grungy underground vibe that adds that element of mystery and rebellion we thrill-seeking art lovers crave.

This is why I was absolutely beside myself when I got to visit the personal studio of Mondongo, the avant garde Argentine art trio recently featured at the Museo de Arte Moderna de Buenos Aires (Mamba). My La Lengua de Buenos Aires professor, Mariano, happens to own an art gallery in addition to teaching at NYU (he never ceases to amaze me) and is good enough buds with these artists that they agreed to give us all a peek at their studio. One of the three has moved to Los Angeles--a city they are all three obsessed with, to the point that it inspired the whole skull theme that runs through many of their pieces ("We think Los Angeles is like, 666" to quote her exactly)--but I got to meet the other two, who have been partners in art and marriage for the past 15 years. Talk about commitment.

Besides being insanely tranquilos (chill), they have to be the most talented people I've ever met. Their signature style comes across as an oil painting from far away, but reveals a surprisingly detailed collage up close with an entirely different narrative all its own. They experiment with different mediums, but the two that stuck were a clay-like substance called plasteline (?) and string. Both painstakingly intricate and absolutely mesmerizing. I won't even bother trying to translate my reaction into words. Better you should see for yourself.

Another reason to love this city all the more.

Quick side note: The group's name is really just a joke between the artists. Mondongo means cow innards in Spanish, but in slang it refers to a man's pene. You do the translation. So every time the president, reporters, or other officials talk about them in public, as you can imagine, they get quite a kick out of it.

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This is what my walk home from the boliche looks like

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Love-hate, but mostly love

If it isn't glaringly obvious from my blog/Facebook activity, I will state here now for the record, I ABSOLUTELY ADORE BUENOS AIRES. It's almost overwhelming. In fact, it's quite possible I may not want to come home. Ever. That said, there are a few things I could do without. As Joni Mitchell (and Counting Crows) made quite clear, indeed you do not know what you got til it's gone. (Disclaimer: This post was inspired after a 2 hour long expedition to buy a new cell phone... Words may be overly harsh and conclusions a bit drastic.)

1. Service please? While the Argentine lifestyle is charmingly laid-back and easy going, the Argentine service is not so charmingly so. Sometimes I just need my check. Like, before it's time for my next meal. And sometimes I just need to buy a prepaid cell phone and not wait in the line for the line for the line for an hour before watching someone type some nonsense into her computer for another hour while I wait some more.

2. Napkins, not wax paper. I have yet to figure out the logic behind Argentine dining. For starters, rather than eating on the table itself, which is quite easy to clean with a little spritz and a swipe, we must eat on a table cloth so that every time I miss my mouth (which is embarrassingly too often) there's no way to cover it up. There it is, a striking pink stain that doesn't quite match the floral motif. (I try to scoot my plate over it and I spill a bit more.) Secondly, even if I wanted to wipe the spilled food off the table, or, god forbid, my mouth, I would have only a thin piece of wax paper disguised as a napkin to do the job. I don't know if you've ever wiped anything with wax paper, but it's neither efficient nor pleasant, particularly if your lips are chapped. I've never actually seen an Argentine use a napkin though, so I think these may just be decoys.

3. Temperature. I know that converting from Celsius to Fahrenheit is way too complicated (at least for me), but last time I checked it didn't change the actual temperature. Everyone here seems to think it's 10 degrees (F) colder than it actually is. Right now it's 70 degrees out and sunny and I am the only person in this cafe not wearing long sleeves, a jacket, and closed toe shoes. And I'm sweating. It's not super attractive.

4. Sleep. Ok this one is really not a complaint. The night scene here is amazing and awesome and so much fun, but it starts at 2am. I kid you not. The night starts at 2am. So, if I choose to be social (which, of course, I do) then I'm basically agreeing to go to sleep at 7:30am. Then when I wake up around 3pm, I'm not really sure what to do with myself. Breakfast as the sun goes down? When in Rome.

Ok that's my rant. Thanks for reading. Now we can all go back to just loving Buenos Aires.

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Gettin jiggy in San Telmo. (How cool is this gif?! Google Plus #AutoAwesome is kind of creepily amazing. It automatically downloaded these pics from my phone and made it into this. Like, what? Ok. No one's paying me so I'm just gonna stop there.)

Today I explored the feria (market) of San Telmo, a swanky little neighborhood that also happens to be the home of the Casa Rosada--like the White House but, you guessed it, it's PINK. Anyhoo, it was a sickeningly touristy day and I enjoyed every minute of it. I ate the most delicious steak of my life (Jugoso, por favor), heard some tap dancin' tunes, and did some super serious people watching. I can't get over how jovial the people are here! Every encounter is a conversation and every conversation is a laughing fit.

I'm still trying to figure out what a normal porteño experience looks like without all the showy tourist attractions. Then again, you can't really separate the two, can you?

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"The chief purpose of education is to teach young people to find pleasure in the right things."

Plato (400 BCE)

Homework for The Science of Happiness. I'm going to love this class.

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La Boca: Birthplace of the beloved Tango

If you like fun facts as much as I do...

The tango was originally danced between men while they waited in line at the brothels. Kind of explains the sexual nature, but then again not really.

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Reasons I think I was probably meant to be an Argentine:

It’s totally ok to be late. Like, socially acceptable. (Get it? Argentime?)

Well that's really the main one right there if you know me.

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So, this is my blog.

Welcome! Whether you love me dearly and want proof I'm alive, are wondering why I'm here and what I'm doing in Buenos Aires, or just stumbled upon this page by fate, I will do my best to entertain you with some anecdotes and antics.

I'll be posting at least twice a week--probably a lot of pictures, as I can't seem to pull my camera away from my face for two seconds in this beautiful city--so tune in as often as you'd like. I've been here exactly one week today (holy cow!), but because of a super busy orientation week and the fact that speaking Spanish kills most of my brain's battery life, I will be posting some posts from last week retroactively.

I hope you enjoy! Besos!