• Micheal Brook
  • The perks of being a wallflower

Charlie’s last letter.

“I don’t know if I will have the time to write anymore letters because I might be too busy trying to participate. So if this does end up being the last letter I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started high school and you helped me. Even if you didn’t know what I was talking about or know someone who has gone through it, you made me not feel alone. Because I know there are people who say all these things don’t happen. And there are people who forget what it’s like to be 16 when they turn 17. I know these will all be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs. We’ll all become somebody’s mom or dad. But right now these moments are not stories. This is happening, I am here and I am looking at her. And she is so beautiful. I can see it. This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story. You are alive, and you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And you’re listening to that song and that drive with the people you love most in this world. And in this moment I swear, we are infinite.”
- stephen chbosky

The perks of being a wallflower

opens Jan 8, 6-8p:

 Martha Mysko

Marc Straus Gallery, 299 Grand St., NYC

Martha Mysko’s sculptures and installations initially appear to be the sites of domestic chaos. Her sculpture is made of every day recognizable furnishings: couches, TVs, trellises, linoleum, mirrors, carpets, and more. They are cultural debris, the “things” in our space that often have lost their visual value. The TV is on, the phone rings and perhaps this sofa with threadbare fabric is no longer noticed.

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.
—  Stephen Chbosky: Perks of Being a Wallflower