We've spent the past few days in the gorgeous little Swedish city of Malmö celebrating my old man Rahul Kadri's great big 50th birthday, eating some seriously delicious food, and wandering these beautiful cobblestone streets. Tomorrow we're off to Stockholm, and where we meet up with my (now all grown up and very tall) little brother.
In the past couple weeks I've visited more art museums than I can count on my fingers, and the experience has left me extremely frustrated with this nonsense that they now seem to call modern art. When did it all become so futile? So selfish? So- dare i say it, silly? I don't know if it is me changing, or the art world, but some of my best memories are of spending hours wandering through art museums, absolutely awed by what was in front of me. Seeing creation, experience, love, loss and life in art. These days, i've just seen some funky, poorly constructed installations, bad quality videos, and a couple of immature, made-to-shock penis portraits. Every artist and his uncle is using neon writing, grainy instagram pictures or big dead animals. THE FUCK?!
You see, in Malmö we've been spoiled with some truly amazing food- from a raw food place, to a rebellious Swedish kitchen, to the freshest, most local, organic, crunchy wonderful produce. Being a college town where most of the population is under 30, Malmö has been full of adorable little eateries and cafes. The more places we visit, where I swoon at their gluten free, date and nut based desserts, photograph each part of their decor, harshly critique their menus and finally leave looking like a baby beached whale- the more I'm realizing that somewhere food has become the art I take most seriously. It's a huge shift for me, one where I know that I have come to a point where a really beautiful beet is as inspiring and exciting to me as a piece of work by JR. No idea where this will go, but I'm loving it.