On Saturday I attended the inauguration of an exhibition of an artist friend. His paintings are contemporary abstract art, the kind I don't like, but on top of that I perceived poor execution. At university I had a teacher who gave us an interesting assignment: take an object and paint it so that it looks cheap. "Oh great" I thought, "all I have to do is hurriedly paint in a garish colors to complete the task". The teacher contemplated my piece saying "there seems to be a misunderstanding here, I asked it to look cheap, not chafa [low quality]". Cheap in this context meant using base primary colors instead of exotic ones (cheaper), non-superfluous details, a sort of visual language that results from optimizing cost without sacrificing quality.
My friend's art reminded me of this. The textures looked sloppy, like the textured walls of an old hotel. The colors were "dirty", like someone mixing too many colors resulting in a muted palette. My friend himself didn't seem to like his own artwork, complaining that he was pressured into delivering for his solo exhibition when he wasn't ready, but it sounded like my own excuses when I'm forced to deliver when I'm not inspired.
In a cellar kind of room within the gallery there were three painting/sculptures which were illuminated in novel ways, they were accompanied by three pages of text narrating dreams. I read the dreams with attention, and—to me—they all pointed towards unfulfilled greatness.
After the exhibition we had lunch with a larger group at a nearby restaurant. I asked my friend about the dreams. He offered his own explanation, which had nothing to do with my interpretation. I wondered then if I was not projecting too much of myself in his artwork.
After lunch V. and me excused ourselves to attend a conference with Sri Preethaji. V. invited me months ago, her sister is a follower and highly recommended her. The ticket was expensive, yet sold out quickly.
At the start of the conference a video was projected detailing all the achievements she and her husband had accomplished, which were not few, not unimportant in the least, but felt tacky to me, like I was at a sales pitch rather than at a spiritual lecture.
Her words and her guided meditations were good, there was nothing I could reproach her in this regard, but nothing out of the ordinary for a good meditation teacher either. The devotion of her followers was perplexing to me, they gave her guru deference when I expected teacher respect. Perhaps these people have had their lives transformed by following her teachings and that's how she gained their devotion, though I feel as if she transformed my life I would attribute it to her ability at transmitting perennial teachings rather than the saint-like status given by her followers.