Saturday, August 04, 2007

Would You Like To Sit Inside A Womb?

Portland has a meager art scene. Of course, I don't know what a non-meager art scene would consist of since I'm about as artistic as a shoe, but anyway...we have something called "First Thursday" in one section of the city...maybe other cities have something similar, I don't know. All the local galleries and some random spaces altered to become galleries open their doors til the wee hours of the night providing wine and crunchy snacks in the hopes that someone will buy their wedding dresses made of wire, self published comic books, and pen and ink portrayals of childhood nightmares.

I don't go often, but I did this last Thursday. This last First Thursday. That's just fun to say. I saw things. Strange things. T-shirts glued together to make a giant tidal wave.A gallery entirely dedicated to paintings of water towers. Hula hoops. Anyway...Marie, Kansas and I were wandering the streets when we happened upon two gaunt, scantily clad, nondescript personages standing in a doorway.

Nondescript personage 1: Would you like to sit inside a womb?
Us: Yes.

(some things don't even need considering)

Nondescript personage 2: Then follow the red string.

(points through doorway behind him/her)

Nondescript personage 1: It's the placenta.


Then it's through hallways, around corners, up stairs, around another corner and the "placenta" stops through another doorway where some people are taking off their shoes. And crawling into the "mouth" of the "womb"...a small, puffy, red satin opening attached to a red, puffy, satin dome. Huh.
We watched the others go in first. You don't just go jumping into wombs all willy nilly. There was some "ooohing" and "ahhhing" from inside and then they emerged, put on their shoes and went away.

Now it was our turn.
Shoes came off, Marie went in first. I followed...Kansas brought up the rear. I've always loved that term. We had to crawl through a puffy, red, satin crawl way (is that a word?) until we reached the puffy, red, satin chamber. There was music playing. The kind of music you hear going through that neon light extravaganza tunnel in Chicago O'Hare airport. You know the one. So there was that and in the middle of the chamber was an "egg". It looked like a cracked glass/plastic lamp with a yellow bulb. It hung from the ceiling like a spider egg. And there was a heart beat coming from it. Not a real one...just the sound of one. No need to call Social Services or anything.

We sat there for a while, not sure of what we were supposed to take away from this particular piece of instillation art. Something other than the feeling that this was completely ridiculous, I'm sure. Oh well. Some other dude crawled in. Kansas cracked some joke about how he was welcome and there was plenty of "womb". Then we all crawled out and made the prerequisite jokes about now all being siblings. Which made me look at Kansas and did the ol' "we must be from Kentucky" just all snowballed from there. The jokes kept coming out...we couldn't seem to stop them. We could tell that the artists were openly ready for us to leave. So we did...just in time to see some more people come down the hall. Some large people. People that were obviously following the "placenta" to the "womb". People who might not fit through the entrance. It took everything I had not to turn around to go back and watch that go down. Everything.

Nothing else in the night topped that.

Wait...that's a lie. I had tachos. TACHOS. Know what they are? Tater tot nachos. Yes.

25 keep(s) me blogging:

Orhan Kahn said...

You don't just go jumping into wombs all willy nilly.

That all depends.

Sydney has a huge art scene and I'm told Melbourne does aswell. I'm sure you haven't a clue where these two cities are, but I'm close to one of them and still I don't get most of the art I see. Makes you think about what a big waste of time being an artist can be; such as the pile of borken glass with star numbers on them. I mean, come on. Wtf.

Gorilla Bananas said...

These artists perform a valuable social function: being silly without realising it. Do you remember what Garp (played by Robin Williams) did when his wife told him she was pregnant? I hope Kansas saw that movie.

Sarah said...

That sounds fantastic! I'm referring to the tachos of course. The womb thing is just creepy. No one should ever be forced to go back to that place. No one.
Oh, and thanks for the baby shirt. She's going to be a "big tipper". It had the whole room cracking up.

Anonymous said...

The art scene is my hometown is severely lacking. I am jealous of your womb-sitting. Well, as jealous of womb-sitting as one could possibly be.

Laura said...

I want tachos! No one ever invites me over for tachos. I am unloved.

Nobody likes me, everybody hates me. Guess I'll go eat wombs.

Ick, okay, that pun was just gross. Sorry.

apterix55 said...

Was it a womb with a view?

Kara said...

or - i know where sydney and melbourne are. i may be american, but i'm not THAT geographically retarded.

goranas - i don't know if kansas saw that movie because i have no idea what movie you are referring to. no idea.

sarah - damn...i was hoping it was going to be "mafia accountant". oh well. the fun is in the surprise, i guess.

jackie - yeah, don't be too jealous. it wasn't even air-conditioned.

laura - we just learned of the tachos' that we know of them, we will go eat them more!

apterix - no view! and ew.

Gorilla Bananas said...

The World According to Garp.
Something to look forward to the next time it's on TV.

AxAtlas said...

Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Post Modern art cracks me up.
Were they selling a miniature version of the womb work?..."Pocket Womb"? Keychain Womb? Womb Comb?

Orhan Kahn said...

..but i'm not THAT geographically retarded..

You're a whole other blend of retarded instead ;)

slaghammer said...

Nasty! You have no idea where that thing’s been. I hope they provided clean towels and hand sanitizer at the exit orifice.

Jon said...

My sister helps to run an event in Portland called Iron Artist on August 25th. It's sort of like Iron Chef for the creative.

Jill said...

That womb gives me the willies and I can't figure out why.

Kara said...

goranas - oh.

ax - see, you take artistic expression and try to market it. which is why you're in advertising and not in art.

or - that's RIGHT. wait. ASSHOLE!

slag - well, i know where it's supposed to go...isn't that good enough?

jon - do they make things with iron or do they just iron things they've made?

jill - well then you should go inside of it. maybe you'll know why then.

Jon said...

Neither. The artists are actually made of iron.

Niall said...

All I could think of when reading that was the video to teardrop by massive attack ... freaks the living night nights out of me. Why? How can it sing?

I think I did the free thing in the Louvre when I was in Paris once.

The Loveliest Sue said...

I just wanted you to know that I had to go home and get tater tots last night just because of your blog! :) LOL

froelica said...

These "tachos" intrigue me...

Laura said...

I was suddenly struck by a new children's book idea...

Would you eat tachos in a womb?

I would not, could not in a womb.

And so forth... I'm going to sell the idea to Scholastic and make thousands. Maybe even TENS of thousands.

nic said...

I have no idea what to say to any of this.

Except maybe this:
it sounded like there was a lot of space in that womb.

you had womb to move.

ha! Pun!

froelica said...

By the way, I'd just like to mention:
"Pocket Womb"
I believe they sell something quite similar to this at your local Fantasy Adult Video Store.

Emily said...

Tachos... hmm I think I might just have to try those... the womb thing just kind of freaks me out a bit.... but Tachos.. I like.

The Future said...

Womb is me!

Macoosh said...

that was the funniest post i've ever read. ever. and the comments were good too. i am still giggling and therefore cannot leave a decent or humorous comment because i am spent. spent from all the giggling. spent, ye hear me?!

Orhan Kahn said...

Aw, memories.