Nail in the coffin

Musea -at their worst- are where art goes to die.

Every year I visit several exhibits. Usually I leave with the feeling of having gawked at a well preserved corpse.

It might be that I go there with the wrong expectations?

Ideally I’d like to leave feeling closer to the artist or gain a greater understanding of the work itself.

It’s so sterile.

Here is the artwork.

There is a plaque with a summation of the life of the person that created it in 365 characters.


When I die, I’d like to commission the author of those plaques, to write my eulogy, to make sure I’m proper dead.