Post by Grubb.
First we went to the Contemporary Art Museum. It was closed. So we stood in the rain and watched seagulls roost in art created for their hanging out.
Ella stepped out of the rain to momentarily roost in an A-frame.
Then we crossed the street to see a number of contemporary art installations from some university students. They were on the third floor of an empty warehouse. Whenever I visit contemporary art showcases, no matter how derivative or uninspired the general presentation, I seem to usually be struck by a work that gives me pause. After going through a large dark space where spotlights revealed meager efforts, I stepped into a vacant industrial room that seemed to be storing a collection of cylindrical objects covered in yellow cloth set on a short wooden tripods, as if they were ready to be shipped. Then I became aware of a faint echo like someone was softly tapping a drum with their forefinger. I looked at a puddle that had formed beneath one of the tripods. Above the tripod was a plastic bucket with a tiny hole in the bottom. I heard more tapping in another part of the room. I stepped back to take it all in. I was in room full of spaced apart drums being played upon by leaking buckets.
