Not Going to Barcelona

I'm planning to go to Europe in less than two months. So far, I don't know if I'm going to France and Germany, France and Spain, or France and Italy. I have to tell you that in the past month, I had latched onto the idea of going to Barcelona. Now, it looks as though I won't see Barcelona at all and I'm sad about that. Honestly, I hadn't had Barcelona on my radar, but when I started to find out about it, I was fascinated. Antoni Gaudi's work seems, at least from where I sit, to have shaped the art and architecture of the entire city. His work is stunning and strange. He lived and created in the late 1800s and into the 1920s. It all looks modern even by today's standards, the park Guell, the Sagrada Familia.

Who am I to be an art critic? I'm just telling you my impressions. I'm drawn to Gaudi's shapes. They're organic, like the seed pods of a lotus plant. I want to touch them, draw bad pictures of them, make quilts that remind the viewer of something they saw once a long time ago on a trip to Spain. I want them to think of that Spanish man they fell in love with at a cafe, of the heat during siesta, and of the evening sun reflecting off the water of the Mediterranean in shards of light.

Now, I need to go to Barcelona.

That is the problem with traveling. It begets the desire to see further. It's the same problem with art. It begets the need to feel more art. It is like opening a door in my soul and hearing music quietly ringing from inside.

Thank you for listening, jb