Point of View

I have never used a wheelchair. Today, at the DOX Centre for Contemporary Art, I was invited to move through an art exhibit via wheelchair.

Entering the exhibit, my classmates and I approached the group of wheelchairs suspiciously. Was this part of the exhibit? If so...then we cannot touch them, for you cannot touch things in museums. A museum attendant provided clarification with broken english and hand gestures and eager head nods, signifying that the wheelchairs were there for our own personal use.

Thus, most of us adopted a wheelchair, and began to awkwardly maneuver about the exhibit. Titled "Disabled by Normality," the exhibition "attempts to reveal and problematize the terms normality and disability in the manner in which our notions of them affect the lives of all of us – they either limit us, or on the contrary give us an advantage."



I always wanted to experience a wheelchair. Use it as an excuse to skip lines at amusement parks, or just two weeks ago, to jump in front of the crowd for a closer view of the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. But as I tried to maneuver forward and backwards, and turn about corners in the museum, I realized the difficulty of being physically confined to a chair. I had selfishly desired a wheelchair before thinking of perks that it could provide or maybe even the attention, but I was wrong.

The exhibit was beautiful. Photos and paintings and their descriptions were all lowered to the eyesight level of one who is sitting in a wheelchair. Also moving about the space, you could no longer entirely distinguish between those who actually needed a wheelchair for mobility and those who were merely "testing" one out. Honestly, I am still contemplating the exhibit and my own short experience sitting in the wheelchair. As the purpose states, I believe that there may be both an advantage as well as disadvantage to "disability." And I think the best exhibits keep you thinking long after you leave the museum.

Trainspotting

Similar to airports, train stations serve as excellent places to people watch. Even if you do not have a train to catch. Or especially if you do not have a train to catch. Time becomes of minimal importance, and you can truly get lost in the stories to make up about strangers. You can fully develop answers to questions like Who are they? Where are they going? Why are they going there? Maybe he is in the CIA? Maybe she is going to visit family or friends? Maybe he is heading towards a lover's rendezvous? Maybe she is moving to an entirely different place, starting an entirely different chapter of her life? What are they seeking and heading toward? What are they escaping and leaving behind?




With this man, maybe he is simply purchasing a ticket to no particular place. He is simply escaping the city of Prague for a day, for a weekend, for a week. He has had enough of the flooding and the rain and the grey and the bitter cold that is unusual for spring. And so, he searches the map, scans the train routes and thinks that he better head south. Toward warmer, temperate climates. Toward Italy and vineyards. Toward Croatia and white houses lining the seaside, similar to Greek. Or maybe he just wants to escape the city limits, head to Pilsen and drink some beer at the brewery. Drown his sorrows at the brewery. Or just have one beer.




And finally, this lady. Is she purchasing sexy calendars of near naked men? Or maybe she is purchasing a calendar of beautiful women? But actually, as exciting this may sound, I believe that she is purchasing the exact opposite. This woman seemed to be glancing around the children's section of a local book/magazine stand here at the Prague train station. She may be purchasing picture books for her own children, for cousins, for nieces and nephews, for brothers and sisters. The questions will always stand unanswered; where is she going, who is she going to see, and why is she leaving the city of Prague?

Train stations are remarkable places.

No Club

Karlovy lázně is a five story club in Prague, and the largest club in Central Europe. Each floor plays a different genre of music, from rap to top radio hits to electronic dance music, and the first floor features a large ice bar. For 150 crowns, tourists can experience all five levels and gain a chance to meet strangers from all corners of the globe.

With the recent flood however, the club may not be "jumpin' jumpin'" for quite some time. Situated near the Charles Bridge and adjacent to the Vltava River, Karlovy lázně joined many of Prague's popular tourist destinations that became susceptible to flooding and resulting water damage. As I explored the damage caused by the influx of water, I noticed several large mirrors just outside of the club. Leaned against the wall, the mirrors were discarded because of large cracks and breaks across the glass pane, though it is uncertain whether the mirrors were taken from the interior of the club itself.

Despite a second day of sunlight and the near disappearance of cloud coverage, Prague is still recovering from the weekend's flood. Transportation systems are still crowded due to closed tram and metro stops, police barricades still line the river, the Charles bridge is only accessible with press passes (hook us up, Dennis), and now the Prague nightlife will also slightly suffer.

Understated

Sometimes I have these thoughts about the peculiarity of suitcases. I have tried to initiate conversations regarding this topic with my mother, father, and brother, but they respond with lost, confused looks. Then they shake their heads and blame this quirkiness on Plan II or whatever....a liberal education. But with suitcases, here's the thing: often we are frustrated with our own suitcases. It's black. It looks like everyone else. It's lost on the luggage carousel. They all look the same. Granted suitcases can have similar outward appearances, think of their purpose, of their destination, of their contents. At any particular airport, one black suitcase may contain scarves and mittens and thick wool socks in preparation for a cool, winter destination. A separate, though seemingly identical suitcase, may contain swim trunks, light cotton tees, and a bottle of SPF 30. A lot goes into packing a suitcase. One must consider the essentials. And they may be packed for short durations or maybe for a long venture. Suitcases look the same, they get lost, they get mistaken, but suitcases are essential.

What does my rant on suitcases have to do with umbrellas? I think they are similar. Yesterday, Dennis charged us the task of photographing people on a very grey and very rainy day. Thus, braving the elements with my Canon, I began to chase after umbrellas. Initially, like a moth to flame, I was attracted to colorful umbrellas with vibrant hues and distracting patterns. But then I realized, as appealing an umbrella may seem, the real subject is hidden beneath, shielding themselves from the elements. It's easy to become transfixed on the bright umbrellas, but that's not really seeing.

Similar though inverse to suitcases, we assume about umbrellas. We focus on how they are different, and I think we then begin to classify everyone holding an umbrella into a single category--those weathering the elements. But, when we begin to slow down and re-examine the subject matter, as we begin to stare as the Czechs do, and actually look with the camera, umbrellas and their patrons become more complex.

This all leads to my final point and final rant. As I chased umbrellas and seemingly stalked people up and down grey avenues, I happened to actually see something. A typical couple, holding black umbrellas. The scene was natural and understated. While some pairs huddled together under a singular umbrella and present a more obvious display of public affection, this couple carried two black umbrellas and their arms stretched out as they held hands. They walked in unison, unaffected by the weather. They were not making a point. They were not being drastic. I want to emphasize the word natural. They were like every other couple that day--mother and daughter, elderly husband and wife, two young high school girls. These two men were not obvious. They were understated, and they brought metaphorical light and sunshine into my life as I followed them a short way on a rainy day in Prague.