to you never has any atmosphere until it's a memory."-Andy Warhol
Say what you will about Andy Warhol, the man had his moments. We never think about the atmosphere of an experience until we find ourselves momentarily transported back to it. It's that way that a smell or a song can return you to a time in your life in a way that transcends the singular stimulation of one of your senses. Why does hearing Time to Pretend always make me feel a little bit less than sober? Andy nailed it. Atmosphere.
I have often tried to take note of these details, attempted to bottle that feeling up so I could recreate the moment again and again. These efforts have failed.
As I finalize my work schedule, buy books for my last semester of college, and happily return to beer of a normal alcohol percentage my head is still back in Park City. I could not capture the feeling of Sundance: of coming out of a midnight movie to a soft sparkly snow, of delirious sleep-deprived laughter and the electricity of thousands of people feeding on the creativity and passion of each other. I could not hold on to it and so instead I wait for it to find me. I wait for all the detail of a memory.
*Photo by me, through the hotel window in Park City
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