please listen to this song as you read the rest of this post:
Are you happy?
Like, right now, at this moment, as you’re reading these
lines, are you happy?
It’s a difficult question, I know.
In order to answer it, you first need to know what it means
to be happy.
If you do know what it means, and if you know whether or not
you are happy; then I have another question for you.
On a scale of 1-10, how happy are you?
I felt like an 8 at the time I took this photo. |
Is this question harder or easier to answer than the first
one…?
If you say ‘7’, or ‘9’, or ‘2,’ what do you make that
decision based on? In comparison to how happy you were in other instances in
your life? In comparison to how happy, at maximum, you think you can be? How
happy you think you deserve to be? Or in comparison to how happy you think the
people around you are?
Can you really describe your level of happiness as a number
from 1-10? And if you can, can you compare your number with the numbers of other
people?
What if they are very pessimistic, and it’s very hard to
make them happy? Or what if you don’t share the same definition of happiness?
My card told me to enjoy the rest of the exhibition with my fly open or unbuttoned buttons-unfortunately, I didn't have either. |
On Saturday, I went to an exhibition called “The Happy Show”
at the Institute of Contemporary Art, affiliated to the University of
Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. The artist is Stefan Saigmeister from Austria, and
currently lives in New York. He’s actually a graphic designer, and works with
some of the most famous (Aerosmith, The Rolling Stones, OK Go…), and some not-as-famous bands and
designs their album covers. He was actually at his own exhibition,
walking around, talking to his audience, and interacting with his own
work, which I thought was pretty cool.
(that's Saigmeister in the background) |
The exhibition is unlike anything I had seen before. It’s
very interactive, and creates a very personal bond between each member in the
audience and itself. The walls of the entire gallery are completely white, and
the space is huge, and white, and clean and empty. The only 3 colors (or 1 if
you don’t count black and white as colors) he used were yellow, black, and
white. He created a very intimate and casual environment by writing every
single description on the walls by hand, using a black, Sharpie-like marker,
crossed over his mistakes, drew arrows when he wanted to add something, or to
point towards certain items on the wall that were part of the exhibition. The
first thing you see (if you enter through the side that I entered through) is a
yellow box attached to the wall, with the words “What is your symbol for
happiness (and no smiley faces)” written by hand in huge black letters above
it. There was a pile of small yellow note cards, and a white box with black
pens in it so that people could use them to make their drawing.
I’m not going to describe the entire gallery in this much
detail, because, well…I can’t. You really need to see it for yourself.
But, if there’s one thing that stuck with me, it is this
message that Saigmeister was trying to give in each of his pieces: do things
that scare you, do things that bring the butterflies in your stomach to life,
do things that you are not comfortable doing. Because if you never get
butterflies in your stomach, it means that you’re always doing the same thing.
It might be safe, but its not what life is about.
"Trying To Look Good Limits My Life" |
So do those things that make you uncomfortable. When you go
to a karaoke bar, don’t just listen to those who sing, take the microphone and
sing a song yourself. Especially if you have a terrible voice. Tell the cab
driver to turn the radio off if you don’t enjoy it. Tell that man you see on
the street that you really like his hat, or ask that pretty girl at the bar for
her phone number.
It is much worse wondering if you should’ve done it rather
than actually doing it and maybe getting a reaction you weren’t really hoping
to get.
And who knows, maybe one day not too far away, all of these will make you happy(er).
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