The Tacoma Art Museum

This blog should share the space of my writing class and Tacoma, not just my Internet Class. In that writing class we took a trip to the Tacoma Art Museum. I was told to practice my descriptive writing and thoughts about the affects of public space. Here's what I got, its pretty much prose too so don't expect context.

Lack of focus, unable to slow down. Ignorance, nerves unending. Suddenly boom.
The woman. She's struggling, hurting, hurting more and more as I watch her. I found him staring at her which originally peaked my interest. The more I got to know her though, the more the scared fear and emotions were evoked. Death, digging nails, a dead plump baby. Her eyes evoked, cried out to me. Asking me to engage with the murders. Asking why they killed her family. The should take her too. Put her out of her misery. She won't stop crying out to me. I stand in awe at this painting by a man and suddenly become fearful, is he a murderer too? I shiver, squirm, shudder and flee. Not before I read though. Pshh they say it's erotic. It's not. Her breasts are up in the air, her body bent back, her nipples exposed to the death seekers. There's nothing erotic about this painting. There's everything powerful instead.

This room is big and the giant walls have a high elevation ceiling. White with big spot lights. Giant posters with bold colors that talk of trade. Between countries and discoveries. People from India are on the walls. Weddings are on hold. There's tall ships and cine a mon plasted up on the galleria wall. What is trade? You have so much space to answer this question. Room to conceptualize, worlds, countries, people. This giant room invites global thinking. I like it, I think big and travel. I sail and visit India. I wander the positive and negative affects of trade all in this big room. Cargo ships of blue and black to elepahnts of transport. What do we give other countries. Anything?