Slowly the streets busy, the sidewalks a flurry with the buzzing energy of the new expression. Galleries flooded with splashes of face and foundry, of rife and distress. These are the episodes that one must endure to be an 'expressive artist'. And 'that' is just what finds its way to the downtown art walk.
In the middle of a no center point town, Los Angeles' downtown art gallery district becomes a dumping ground for the avid art hunter and the desperate but allusive Angelino art seeker.
High above the streets in an apartment built for two, two men were hosting a monthly tradition, the pre-art walk party. Sean and Dave (two friends) have graciously opened their doors to the wandering few that choose to venture so high and mingle with other like minded men. The drinks are bottomless, the atmosphere pulsing and witty repartee prevails.
Some nights, at this affair, there remains the inevitable chance that two people would reconnect. Last night was no different. I had the luck of finding a someone, whom I had written off as unavailable/uninterested; and that someone found me. Perhaps it's actions that dictate to the world who and how we are, and as such, last night, to me, was a reminder that connections are never severed but rather merely elongated by time and space.
Here is the title line: With truth, comes the reaction, or consequences. When you tell your girlfriend how bad her back cleavage looks in 'that' dress, one would imagine this as an advantage for her sake, but alas, such remarks leave one with the possible consequence of retaliation and vengeance...trouble is bound to erupt.
How is it then, that when someone professes emotions to a friend, family member or loved one; does that person take such news as defamatory? Why do we spend so much time on the defensive that we fish an insult from the mouth of a complement? When does the truth have to stop in order to keep egos happy and life in balance?
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