Does caging beauty make it less? Does the beauty slip through the bars, never to be captured? The rape of trying to molest beauty into slaving for your pleasure. Or can we bind beauty and majesty to our wills? Does this turn the freedom into something wretched and depraved? Is beauty the same when shoved together, sharing a space too small to contain its pure magnificence?
Living beings are not to be allowed to be captured or taken prisoner. Yet art is allowed to be thrown, scattered about. Compressed into a space far too small for such large ideas. Set next to another, completely alien and made with a different stroke, a different thought in the mind. How things, so incomparable could be so close together, is an unfathomable answer. Long lost are the days where you had to hunt for something of value, to work for it. Now it is handed to us on a silver platter. Shoved down our throats with the cry of "I am best! Look at me for my artist's name, give glory to the one who made me!" Should we not give credence to the art itself? Let our minds wander to where the dried paint takes us. It will take us on an unforgettable journey to somewhere new and undiscovered.
That being said, I love museums. They fascinate me to a wondrous extent. I could spend hours just going where my feet take me. The solitude makes me sad, but I feel like I am the art's only escape of the rigid boredom that is their life. I take what they have to offer and I give a little bit of myself in turn. I give them my attention and in return they give me stories. They take me into their world, a stranger in a strange land.
They give me perspective on my life. They make me realize how very insignificant I am. How even 100 years from now the world will be forgetting me and letting others take my place. But what they let me see in polarity to that is that I am a wonder. I may be forgotten in nigh but one hundred years, but for that time I will do all that I can. I will live my life, and if something permanent comes out of it, then so be it. But I shall not be afraid to fade away into time. For at some point we all must do it. I shall live my life in acceptance that when I die I will truly die. With that I am satisfied.
I guess I get a little more out of museums than other people...