Bridges

The Bashi of Nihombashi


Classic anti-social me bounces across the subway route (alone) toward my destination tonight – Nihombashi.

I pass an oddity that looks like an egg leaning against a red chopstick lost in the garbage disposal. As I lean down to capture a photo from a dramatic angle, my eyes catch “Bridgestone Museum of Art” chicly sticky-ed to the glass door. I check the door for further inquiry regarding prices and closing times. With a “reasonable” and “two hours left” as reactions, I enter. And with a special exhibit on loan from Paris, why not? It’s a private gallery, with less than a dozen galleries, but my goodness quality made up for quantity. After passing through a whole room of cookie cutter pencil sketches of Paris (think mindless suburbia of art), a watercolor catches my eye. A style. An artist. Degas. My insides grow quiet as I near the painting (and remain completely oblivious to the “do not get closer to the painting than this line” line), just completely in awe that I am in front of an original Degas. My eyes follow each stroke as if he had just moved his brush. The green and pink oils peak up off the canvas, signifying where his tool’s caresses had ended. The dancers on the paper appear so natural, so in touch with their bodies, so blissed of emotion after dancing. I stare longingly at the painting. I don’t want to leave. My joy is full.

I love Degas.

I finally move on to the next room. Relics from Ancient Greece, Rome, and Egypt, civilizations of which I recently learned to love in my humanities class at BYU. Closing time will come far too soon.

Art, maybe, for Degas or Monet (also present at Bridgestone!) or the Grecian sculptor of Venus, was like writing is for me. I see something beautiful and I just want to capture it and share it with others. As if to say, “Look what you missed. Let me tell you what it was like.” Only, how I experienced something is unique to me. So I say, “So, let me make it my own, and throw in how it looked and felt and tasted, to me, before I give it to you. This way it’s not only the sights, but it’s the feelings I experienced when I saw it. This way, you not only get it, you get me." What’s important enough to capture and bring to someone? For Monet it was nature. Water lilies, the countryside, bridges over water. The Greeks, who worshiped and emulated fiery Athena, wanted to commemorate the goddess and share her with the world. Degas saw and felt something in the women of ballet, and fortunately he was able to speak those things through his canvas. For me, it's whatever pops up on this little sharing space of mine on the internet. Whatever makes life beautiful to me.

More of Nihombashi:
Outside the Bridgestone
Currency Museum
The Ladies' Room at Mitsukoshi