The Exhibit

The Exhibit

Through glass doors I enter

kaleidoscopes of bold black words:

foire d’art du soi

Now would be a great time to know French

I think as I enter the pavilion

neverending horizon of white walls, sunset of colored works 

of formless shiny sculpture

and fluorescent canvases

top-lit stylized monumental

or perfect impressionist abstract

But I am critical

of my need for labels

I pause at a plastic pink-red gummy bear, 30-feet tall

glossy surface a contrast

to the cutaway interior, melting

brown with decay

into nothingness

and the cryptic underlit title of the work

raising more questions than it answers:

      How Many Iron Gummies Are Enough

      For A Lifetime Of Deficiency -

      A Representation of The Feeling

      and The Before

I move on to another gallery

filled with fashion mannequins

their outfits a horrifying clash 

of Victorian embellishment

and post-pop streetwear

and gaping holes

of ugly lifeless fiberglass

Then I am drawn

to a pastel painting layered in 

soft blues and pinks

of a child’s forgotten stuffed animal

buried behind a corner full of clutter

its once soft pile hardened and sticky

like an indictment of the world’s cruelty

I glance at the painting’s title

      The Velveteen Rabbit –

      If Only Someone Hadn’t Flung Him 

      Into Ant Poison

then refuse to look back

revolted

I hurry along 

to an amorphous mirrored sculpture

the size of a garage

its strange curves and folds 

seeming to reflect

every angle of the pavilion at once

without in front or behind, or left or right

distant exhibits deforming into near ones

in an endless dance

of mystery and possibility scarcely reduced 

by the label of a title:

      The Bridge Between 

      Your Perspective

      And The Room

I breathe in

courage to look across the aisle

and view the artwork 

that I now understand

is what brought me here:

a shrill and ambiguous photo

of a teenage girl

harshly lit under glowing spotlight

her hazel eyes wide

her skin both blemished and smooth

alone and unsure and smiling faintly

I recognize her, this uncanny semblance

cast in such dark shadows

and such brilliant light

open to interpretation

a work of art

irreducible to any title so ridiculous as

      Self-Portrait