The Tingles

Since getting to Bridgeport, I have noticed a certain feeling circulating in my veins. It originally started out low and then it started to grow until it capitalized on my utter exhaustion yesterday and blew up entirely. I have been getting what I like to call “the tingles”. It cannot be treated by a physician or mother…the only solution is finding the cause of said tingles and surrendering to its power.

Yesterday I was completely exhausted after nursing a gi-hugic hang over on Saturday (amazing night on the town Friday night in NYC, needless to say Saturday and Sunday were rough). My roommates and I decided to keep it low-key on Sunday because we were all feeling the effects of Friday night still. So Melissa found an advertisement in the paper for a gallery showing in Bridgeport. It was a great idea because it followed our very high standards that JVC has instilled in us: 1) in our host city 2) viewing artwork 3) free admission and 4) free food. Simply put, we were in. So we all piled into Alie’s car and headed to this mysterious art showing in an old abandoned factory.

We pulled into the parking lot, not knowing what or who to expect but if JVC has taught us anything, it’s to be optimistic. My eyes followed the deep red, brick walls up four stories to a sign that read, “Studios for Rent”. We were in the right place. We made our way through the heavily beaten doorway to our first studio…he was a painter. His artwork was a little redundant to me but my taste isn’t everyone’s taste. As we entered into room number two, I had hopes that this room would reveal how the rest of our artsy excursion would go…and it did.

Inside was an awesome installation exhibit. She had made over-sized (like taller than me) flower pots with people popping out of them…so cool. It was like scavenger installation work but also large scale installations.

Then we headed upstairs…my blood began to flow when we finally made it up to the third floor. It was phenomenal. I was in love…and the tingles were in full swing. I examined and gawked at the oil paint splatters of vibrant purples, lime greens and invasive black and was entranced. Each painting I passed, I fell more and more in love with the ideas, the efforts behind the work and the passion and freedom the artist had to do whatever he wanted. My favorites were two oil painters and they were the cause of the sudden butterflies and light fluttering I felt in my core. Painting after painting, small to large canvas inspired my pep in my step, which I diagnosed as “the tingles”. It began as a small nuisance, but it soon developed into a much deeper, overwhelming sensation of urgency, passion and motivation…aka: the tingles.

These tingles are still pumping through me and I left the factory feeling more alive than I had entered. I miss painting, I miss creating…I miss the time I had to let my mind burst free onto a canvas. I miss the smell of oil paints and the feeling of intense concentration on the thing I am creating. The only remedy for my tingles is to create again. I told my roommates I want to go to scrap yard and find cool things to use. I want to paint, make and release my creative juices and most of all I want to feed into my tingles. I have relented...mark that: Katie – 0 , Tingles - 1