The Art Galleries in Chelsea

By Jung Uk Yang

    “Do you have any questions?” We turned our heads toward the bespectacled man holding a brown coffee cup. He was the gallery curator, but I saw Stanley Tucci from The Devil Wears Prada; black glasses and a shortly cropped head of grey and black hair.
      “Which piece is your favorite?” My Mom asked, who was trying to educate me in the world of art.
      “I’d have to say that one,” he smirked and pointed to a white canvas with large black words cursing out Jesus Christ. “But that’s because I did it.” I smiled and nodded. “But if I had to choose a different one, I think it’d be that one.” And he pointed to a refined, pop-art hanging on the wall.
      My mom and I were in New York City for a cousin’s baby-shower and we had the afternoon free. So instead of killing time in some Starbucks downtown, we sauntered our way through Chelsea visiting the art galleries. I wasn’t originally thrilled about wandering about rooms with creaking floors and white walls and looking vaguely interested. However, I found that instead of feeling bored and listless, the new scenes drew me in and I attentively viewed the installations as my mom explained modernism. Not to mention, the high powered air conditioning was delightful.

This giraffe was incredible, by Quentin Garel
By Roy Kinzer

Mom doing her research.
I can be fractal too.
One of my favorites by Swoon.
This was my artistic contribution. 
By Stanley Casselman 
That shroud is actually a print of the Wall Street Journal, by Robert Rauschenburg.

    I have to say, I felt incredibly cultured at the end of our tour.
Veronica A.
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