Joseph Cornell travel diary rant

The other day I mentioned Joseph Cornell and was going to write about the time I saw his work in Chicago. I remember that day so well, but in a way I have forgotten a lot of the detail too...I remember seeing his boxes...more than one, more than two, more than three. An entire room full of Joseph Cornell boxes. I remember the lighting was perfect and I had shivers just looking at all the delicate, beautiful work. Seriously. I remember standing in a room entirely overwhelmed and in awe.

My diary entry, well lets say...doesn't really capture that and perhaps lacks focus:

"Getting tired - we went to the Chicago Institute for some rest/food and to look at our photos. The gallery is huge but I felt really sick. Some great modern art and heaps of Joseph Cornell boxes. Beautiful delicate boxes filled with treasures. Some of them lit up with animals - well birds, inside. The butterfly box was a favourite, with frosted glass and real butterflies it was enchanting. Walked back to find the groovy area and failed and felt really sick."

I wasn't going to include the above because of its high cringe factor, and I shudder to think about what I wrote in Washington about the Rothko exhibition.

I looked.

Apparently there were more Cornell boxes, some Willem De Kooning, and a fantastic Calder exhibition. And the best observation?

"Also a surprisingly good Rothko exhibition, beautiful works, stained coloured canvases, breathtaking and inspirational"

Umm surprisingly good???

I'd like to apologise for my former self all those years ago. I hope I don't read this blog in ten years and decide I'm still a dickhead. That surprisingly good exhibition was an amazing collection of the most beautiful and understated work. I remember standing in a room mesmerised. I was stunned by the beauty of all of those works together and still look at the catalogue - which the purchase of is a telling sign of the impact of this exhibition. This was a trip where we drove other peoples cars to get from one place to another. We zig sagged aimlessly through over 40 states just to get somewhere cheaply. It was the trip we saved so hard for and then the dollar hit 49 US cents. It was the trip where you didn't have money to spare on buying an art catalogue.

But I did, and I'm glad - because leafing through the haze of colour brings back memories of the journey we took, that unfortunately my travel diary never will.