I flew home today to visit my family for the weekend (everyone needs a break from P-Town every once in awhile), and we went to the a fine art exhibition. The art was amazing, but what I enjoyed the most was actually talking to the artists themselves. I quickly lost my parents and stated talking with an amazing young artist named Kris. His long brown hair pulled back at the nape of his neck made him look like a cliche. He sat bent over a canvas-in-progress his lips were slightly parted as if the colors that mingled on the canvas were actually spilling forth out of his mouth from the depths of his body. As I looked at the muted beauty that prevailed on his canvases, he asked me which was my favorite. I answered that his painting entitled Echo was my favorite because it looked like liquified earth that still seemed to be in motion. After that, we fell into easy conversation about art, literature, and life in general. Aparently we both have a fondness for Billy Collins and Philip Larkin. We spoke about how smaller paintings are more difficult and how that was similar to writing poetry, because in poetry every word counts and on small canvases every stroke counts. All in all, he was a fascinating man. I also spoke with a girl named Asha who is originally from India and we fell into conversatoin about her artwork and traveling and the influences on her work. I liked a set of two paintings by her entitled Soul Search I & II. It was a very enjoyable experience and makes me want to pull out my paints once I get back to Utah. Art is so powerful, but also so draining. After this weekend, I think I'll try my hand once again at painting my soul.