Proper art. Or at least, pop art.
I am by no means a sophisticate when it comes to art - I don't know much about it and only really appreciate things that I find pretty or are steeped in history. Pop art was never really on my radar, but today I met up with a very dear and beloved friend from university and we decided to educate ourselves by visiting the Andy Warhol exhibition at The MAC Belfast.
We tried our best to bluff our way through artspeak, pretending that we knew what we were talking about when it came to silk screening for as long as we could, trying to analyse colours. We would whisper, until we entered the Silver Clouds room, observed the floating rectangular balloons and had no choice but to stay silent.
These balloons were not my favourite, but I did love the cow wallpaper, because cows are adorable (if a little frightening in real life.) The other pieces were steeped in pop culture, from sketches of the famous Marilyn work to film and festival posters that I recognised from only goodness knows where.
In the upper room were what I can best describe as the 'duplicate pieces'. It was a little like playing 'Spot the Difference'. In the Paratrooper Boots painting, we spotted a fleck of red on one half (accidental? Damage? Who knows?), and a random white spot on one half of Repent and Sin No More... (Deep analysis, I know. I told you I don't quite get it.)
My only criticism - as I am no art critic - is that a little explanation of context for the paintings may have been helpful. Were they a reaction to an event, to a person? Maybe the point is that the art should be relevant outside of context. Regardless, I did learn a little and actually have begun to admire the bright colours and their standout against the bare walls of the gallery.
via Harlem Cafe
But my favourite part of the day was our catch up over lunch. We shared the stories we've missed in the interim space, the pieces of our lives that had been missing from view. We ate really good chili paninis while she updated me on her new relationship. We looked on at a group of older women laughing and chatting over wine and seafood and looked forward to the days ahead when we will do the same.
Harlem Belfast is an eclectic cafe in a large room with bare floorboards, comfy chairs and. The shadow-box tables are filled with quirky objects - today, our table was filled with brightly coloured shells and plastic starfish. The bar, ceiling and counters are wrapped in delicate fairy lights that make the room sparkle like Christmas even in the middle of spring. The food was lovely, the staff were amazingly pleasant and all in all, it was a very sweet lunchtime.
And in the art gallery, the cafe and the conversation, I caught a little glimpse of the life I've left behind, and have found another puzzle piece of the reason why I left - but most importantly, learned that my time in that life has not been forgotten by anyone, and in fact, the fact that it was so short may have been that which made the most impact. Because it was short, it was bright and apparently it stood out - a patch of pop art on a white wall.
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