What is Art? Art is a Man's Name

Today, we went to SFMOMA.

Since June I've wanted to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the SFMOMA, but for one reason or another, I never made it there until today.

I think the thing with Kahlo's art is as my mother says, she doesn't use words, she uses pictures to tell her story and her thoughts. So while it is beautiful, it's completely exhausting because you "read" a lot with her works. All you have to do is look at her art and feel every bit of her on the canvas, pouring screaming, shouting, crying, pleading out to you. The only painting in the whole collection that exuded peace was one that featured an old lady, not related directly to Kahlo. But her talent is undeniable and every stroke is an exercise in raw power.

What was really surprising was Half-Life of a Dream featuring contemporary Chinese art. These Chinese artists are really impressive, young and passionate. The exhibit I saw reminded me a lot of the work that I saw in the art alley's in Beijing last year. Their work demonstrates a wicked sense of humor and a Eastern sense of beauty, but boiling just below the surface is paramount rage and disenchantment. So no matter how innocent the smiling face, how pretty and delicate the bird, how languid the nude, there is a whole story just simmering and reaching to get out--to get back the lost years, to hold the government accountable, straining to be heard. This is the right showcase for this art--angry and regal.

After a meal for the mind, we looked to feed our stomachs as well. For that, we turned to Yank Sing, by far the best and high-priced Dim Sum, I've had in SF, NY, and possibly LA. It really was a treat to be able to gorge ourselves on great meal fare. It passed my Dad's quality test, which says a lot, so thanks Anne, who recommended the place.