Constantin Brâncuşi, Bird in Space, 1923

Dear reader - assuming that anyone actually reads my posts - please join me on a little adventure that I like to call: Art is Motion. Now you may be thinking, "I don't know about this, Bill. It sounds like one of them public broadcasting shows where they paint the happy little trees." Fear not anonymous reader and Bill, for there will be no such tom foolery in the highbrow - questionable - art analysis to follow. So, without further adieu: Art is Motion #1 - Bird in Space by  Constantin Brâncuşi.

Just look at that sculpture. Beautiful. Empowering. Exciting. I chose this as my first piece for the show for one simple reason: I look at it and my heart starts racing. Sweat begins to bead on my forehead. I feel invigorated. I feel like I can take off into the sky.

Every chance that I get to spend time with the work - and even as I am writing this - I witness the same series of events: The Bird stands there, silent, refined, flawless. Then it moves, stretching out toward the sky. Then it  flies, up and away from the wooden base, out of the sterile backdrop, into the blue sky above. Then it floats endlessly, soaring through the stratosphere at thousands and thousands of miles per hour, but appearing motionless all the same, no backdrop to give the viewer reference.

But that's just me. To some I'm sure it's just some phallic statue that would tie together a modern art-deco living room quite nicely if placed gently upon the end table of a favorite love seat. But time and time again, love seats prove a tad less interesting than their name suggests, while space travel retains the title of "Pretty Much the Coolest Thing Ever."