I happened upon an art gallery today at the community college. Before this moment, I had forgotten why I loved centers of learning. Under deadlines and expectations, school can seem more like jail. But me, for now at least, I have no deadline. Yes sir, I am a curious cat weaving in and out of rooms filled of books, practice rooms with electric pianos, and student art shows.
The college is built half inside and half outside; its classrooms open to courtyards filled with painters, picketers, and people peeling puff pastry from their pockets and putting it down their pipes. My husband’s class lasts for three hours, which leaves me a good amount of learning for the sake of learning time.
Today, as I mentioned, I stumbled upon some art. One of the paintings actually made me want to weep-the kind that isn’t from sadness but from something deeper. Another seems to feature my mother and made me wonder how this artist knew how to draw her without ever knowing her.
The exhibit was titled DOMESTIC DISOBEDIENCE: Redefining the Domestic Space. Evidently, the show is about new generations of Latina in the United States who are “torn by their aspirations and the domestic roles imposed by their family.”
What results is a beautiful cohesiveness between seemingly conflicting roles.
I brought home a few photographs of the art, so you can be the judge of that: