It was if his eyes had never been truly open before. To him, the simple act of walking into a palace of treasures be as momentous as dividing one’s life into before the awakening to art appreciation and after the awakening to art culture.
The grandness of Federation Court was overwhelming- no matter how crowded it was, its influence and grandeur was not lost on the young man.
For if nothing else, it enforced the believe that he was just a youngling in the jungle known as life. Deep within the bowels lay pieces hundreds of years old (Monet’s, Rembrandt’s et al) and here he was on the precipice of it; a marvelous treasure begging to be feasted upon for the first time.
For each step past the Court unveiled more glorious treasures. From Ancient Egyptian treasures to frames bursting with religious iconographies, it was all a feast begging to be consumed and enjoyed numerous times over.
And consumed it was. Though by no means an art connoisseur, the youngling certainly lapped up each piece of art as if it were a fine wine. A wine that with each passing sip, tasted just as good as the previous sip.
The biggest surprise to the youngling was how amazing each piece of work was in itself. Why not overly religious, the details to each of those particular paintings was appreciated by the youngling. And when he came upon a certain painting and was informed it was intended as propaganda, he enjoyed that the most. Not for its propaganda properties, but for its ability to be perceived and interrupted as such; as his own interpretation of it was that it was an artwork portraying martyrdom.
As he left that particular building for the day; he knew that it wasn’t to be for the last time. He knew that he had been awoken to a particular part of culture that he had never given much thought of too before; but yet he knew he instantly fell in love.
And if it was the last thing he was ever to do; he intended to share the beauty of it with as many people as he could.
