When I first heard the word I was curious, so I followed the trail. I started talking to young people who seemed to be different in an intangible kind of way. I followed one. The trail led to a mansion, gated no less. Not being invisible I was finally spotted, looked over, and invited in.
Schlepkey, the name of the homeless children who gather in this mansion. They have taught themselves how to survive and thrive. They taught themselves and each other to grow food, prepare food, make furniture, clothing. They have educated themselves, each in their areas of interest through free classes on the internet and through self exploration and experimentation. Then they teach each other so they have rounded skill sets. They live in a state of natural joy and wonder when they are alone, among themselves.
Schlepkey, it’s the name of the children who possess a key to this mansion.
Do you remember Billie Holiday? Sultry, sexy. Her singing pulled you right in. Does your art do that? What's the magic ingredient? What makes you want to walk right into a painting? What quality in an abstract can draw you in and keep you coming back for years, decades, centuries? What makes a story immortal?
Even among the greats there is a difference. At the local art gallery there was a show that included Picasso, Rembrandt , and many other legends. Among all those incredible paintings was one tiny painting by Salvador Dali. There was so much energy coming from that little painting that it could have been the only one in the whole gallery. Clearly he was a true master of paint, painting, and art and I'm not particularly fond of his subject matter.
I'm curious, how did that energy get in that painting? Are all his works at that same energy level? Does everyone feel it, see it, or was only I drawn to it? I'm a huge fan of Picasso also and it was amazing to see these famous works of art. Yet, it was the tiny Dali that pulled me across the room when I didn't even know what the painting was.
That brings up another remembrance. I was watching a documentary on Michelangelo's sculptures. At the end they showed a room in the basement of the museum that housed his last sculptures that he struggled with. Where the others were polished, refined works of a master at his finest, the ones he struggled with and couldn't finish where the ones I was completely drawn to. They seemed to hold the entire energy of humanity. To me, they where magical and I felt sad that they where locked away from he public. There is a beauty and magic in struggle and the living of life that pulls you in, just like Billie Holiday.