Portrait of the Artist as a Tourist

I think of myself as an artist. Of music, of course. When I think about what I like, in life, generally, I think, "music, art, film, etc." Culture, inasmuch as that means anything specific. And yet, I'm about to enter my fourth week here and have still not gone to a museum. (I've gone to parks, gardens, the zoo, the movies, an amazing concert, but no museums, which I usually love). It's just weird. When I lived in NYC, I'd go to MOMA at least once a month, but really more like once a week or more. Whenever I've lived in other cities, I learn the collections of all the major museums. (Rome was a bit of an exception due to the fact that all the art and museums are falling apart and only open every 7th tuesday of every quarter unless the portanero doesn't feel like showing up, or if it's cloudy, etc...) It would be a shame (or a farce) to think that I've just seen enough art and don't need it anymore. But i have, arguably at least, seen a good percentage of the masterpieces and masters of the world. Maybe it's just more interesting to try to reconcile the existence of the beautiful art nouveau architecture among rich businessmen and cartoneros (homeless scavengers who pick through the garbage), the tango-infused music that soaks the environment throughout, the traffic that resemble a demolition derby driven by blind people, the parks, the dogs, not to mention the ongoing challenge of just trying to understand newspapers and street signs.

As I said, I'm about to enter my fourth week here. How strange. At first I thought that a month is the absolutely WRONG amount of time for a trip. Too long for a vacation, too short to think of it as a move to another city. But I've come up with a solution, albeit just a way of psyching myself out: I've decided to think of each week or so as a new vacation. The first was one of blind exploration into new physical spaces and activities, the second, some more of the same with some socialization with new-found friends, the third, further branching out with some cultural activities (more movies and an amazing concert of flamenco dance, singing, music; see above). Inasmuch as I've tried to plan anything, the next phase will focus on lessons (spanish and perhaps more tango) as well as some museums. We'll see what actually happens.

It's just a funny thing, to truly identify yourself as one thing (composer, artist, whatever) and then find that when transposed onto a new environment, everything changes, the radar detects different things (empanadas, dogshit, a distant view of the river) and, in the best of times, it all becomes interesting, new, fresh, and wonderful.