When I think of smell and art, I think of the vaguely astringent and gluey odor of the Art Institute. I have no idea what the source is, though I suspect it has more to do with displays and cleaning than with the actual art itself. But why shouldn’t we appreciate scent as an art the way we appreciate sound and vision and touch and even taste? (What is Next anyway but an ever-changing gallery with the art on plates instead of the wall?)
I think it must be difficult to use smell in a metaphorical way. A college friend who was doing research in what he called, endearingly, “the science of sniff” explained to me that because scent receptors are so close to the brain, smell is experienced much more immediately than the other senses. It’s relatively easy to interpret sounds or colors, but we smell things without necessarily understanding exactly what they are.
But what does the city smell like? I’ve been trying to figure that out all weekend, and how something so ordinary can become so beautiful.
