Say what you will about Jackson Pollock, love his work or hate it. Whichever way your art-appreciation wind blows, my immediate reaction when I see his paintings is to slow down and take time to make sense of all the disparate parts. I want to sit with a piece long enough so that the unfamiliar, incoherent, not entirely known elements become something that is...known. Understandable, even.
This image was taken at MoMA on Monday and it perfectly captures my current state as I think about the many excellent conversations at Book^2 Camp and the first days of the O'Reilly Tools of Change conference. I am pondering the vast interconnected landscape of what's possible and what's not. The world of who's whining, who's working, who's making a difference and who's not.
I'm also painfully aware that I need time and space (and quiet and no keynotes) to mull over many seemingly incoherent parts and find common throughlines that interest me and that I want to explore further. Back to back days of great discussions and panels and off-the-cuff brainstorming have left me very much in need of getting back to the Pollock room at MoMA. Sitting quietly on a bench. Undisturbed. Free to take all the time I need to let the cacophony sink in and find meaning in it.
