Great art is unexplainable. This afternoon Mrs. G and I have been at the High Museum taking in the Andrew Wyeth exhibit there. We did the headset walking tour. Andy, as they called him is weird enough to be a genius. I'm afraid I can't buy all the stuff they say about the "meaning" behind the art. It speaks pretty well for itself. Most of it was painting of inanimate stuff, but the portraits were moving. Particularly the portrait of Helga with her hair in braids. There was another of an empty room, with the window open, wind blowing a sheer that still hangs above the window. You could feel the wind.

As we walked out I went through some of the sculpture in the permanent collection. Marble that is alive. I looked at this young woman, seeing how beautiful she was, frozen in a marble moment from a hundred fifty years ago, her gown waving in a passing breeze, and I decided that great art is the opposite of war and terrorism. One is unspeakable beauty, the other unspeakable horror. They both take everything you have--one absolutely for the good of mankind, one absolutely to the detriment.

Why can't someone in the middle east be like Abraham. They all claim him as father. He and Lot came to a place to settle down and Abraham said, "Lot, where do you want to settle. Make a choice and I'll go the other way. Lot chose the best land. Abraham happily took what was left. In today's middle east, everyone wants everything. They make war instead of art.