Art
This past week I took some time off. I had made plans with my friend, Patricia, to do something. She sent me several choices of possible things to do and see in the Cities. I chose a trip to an art museum. I had been to this place before about 20 years ago and remembered liking it. We decided to visit the museum and then have lunch. I was really looking forward to this. Patricia is the most cultured person I know. She grew up out east and I think even went to art school at some point in time. I thought it would be fun to wander around the museum with someone who knows about art.
I was also a little scared. Patricia is the most cultured person I know. She is well read, well educated and so well put together that I sometimes feel like an ungainly calf or an unmade bed next to her. I know nothing about art. I like sculptures and paintings. I also like the kind of art that goes into decorating things like bowls, plates and teacups, the way clothing is put together and the beauty of natural things like flowers. I think Norman Rockwell is a good artist. Shocking. I was hoping that she wouldn't be too scornful of me as we wandered around. I hoped she wouldn't be sorry.
She picked me up and we headed into the city. We arrived at the museum. It took a few minutes to find the ticket desk and the coat room. Things were not well marked. We got a gallery map and walked down a hall that had huge lights with chunks of glass on strings hanging down. I liked the lights. We walked into the first gallery.
There was a canvas with orange and white stripes on it. Next to it was a long explanation of what it was about. I was underwhelmed. There was a stick with round coloured pieces of wood circling it like beads on a string. There was a canvas with random splashes of colour and round objects protruding from it. There was another frame with something that looked like torn up Mylar balloons that was supposed to symbolize connectedness. Next to many of these displays were explanations. I hoped it would get better.
The was a billiard table with three balls on it, an abused shoe under glass and a wire,feather creation that looked like a bust bunny or a hairball. There was another stick wrapped in different colours of yarn or thread.
Another gallery had an exhibit by some French artist that I had never heard of. (Like I know so many French artists...) The title of the exhibit was meant to be provocative and thought provoking. To me it just seemed pretentious and silly. The exhibit consisted of canvases with solid blocks of colour painted on them. I was seriously underwhelmed. This is great art? I can see this my local Home Depot. In fact the Home Depot paint swatches are more interesting because at least the paint names show some creativity. This was just silly. How could anyone take this seriously? I wondered if this was some kind of hoax contrived by a couple of college students just to test the limits of gullibility.
I sneaked a peek at Patricia. For all I knew she could have really liked this stuff. I had been able to resist the urge to mock everything in sight. I wasn't sure how much longer I would be able to hold out. I breathed a purely mental sigh of relief when I saw that she was not impressed. Good, it would be safe to make a few quiet remarks.
We wandered around a bit more. I saw something that looked like someone was doing something under a short set of stairs. They had left their supplies there and maybe were taking a break of some sort. It turns out that that was a piece of art. It was a finished work. OK.
There was nothing more we wanted to see and we had a lot of the afternoon left. I felt bad. I was hoping that the museum would be interesting. We both agreed that it was someplace we wouldn't need to see again.We went to a small Italian deli for lunch. Across the street was a consignment store that Patricia likes.
That sounded good to me. I'm not the shopper that Patricia is, but she has very good taste in clothing. I had shopped with her before and liked looking at what she picked out both for me and herself. I found two cute sweaters for me and a nice tie for C.
It turned out to be a fun afternoon anyway.
I was also a little scared. Patricia is the most cultured person I know. She is well read, well educated and so well put together that I sometimes feel like an ungainly calf or an unmade bed next to her. I know nothing about art. I like sculptures and paintings. I also like the kind of art that goes into decorating things like bowls, plates and teacups, the way clothing is put together and the beauty of natural things like flowers. I think Norman Rockwell is a good artist. Shocking. I was hoping that she wouldn't be too scornful of me as we wandered around. I hoped she wouldn't be sorry.
She picked me up and we headed into the city. We arrived at the museum. It took a few minutes to find the ticket desk and the coat room. Things were not well marked. We got a gallery map and walked down a hall that had huge lights with chunks of glass on strings hanging down. I liked the lights. We walked into the first gallery.
There was a canvas with orange and white stripes on it. Next to it was a long explanation of what it was about. I was underwhelmed. There was a stick with round coloured pieces of wood circling it like beads on a string. There was a canvas with random splashes of colour and round objects protruding from it. There was another frame with something that looked like torn up Mylar balloons that was supposed to symbolize connectedness. Next to many of these displays were explanations. I hoped it would get better.
The was a billiard table with three balls on it, an abused shoe under glass and a wire,feather creation that looked like a bust bunny or a hairball. There was another stick wrapped in different colours of yarn or thread.
Another gallery had an exhibit by some French artist that I had never heard of. (Like I know so many French artists...) The title of the exhibit was meant to be provocative and thought provoking. To me it just seemed pretentious and silly. The exhibit consisted of canvases with solid blocks of colour painted on them. I was seriously underwhelmed. This is great art? I can see this my local Home Depot. In fact the Home Depot paint swatches are more interesting because at least the paint names show some creativity. This was just silly. How could anyone take this seriously? I wondered if this was some kind of hoax contrived by a couple of college students just to test the limits of gullibility.
I sneaked a peek at Patricia. For all I knew she could have really liked this stuff. I had been able to resist the urge to mock everything in sight. I wasn't sure how much longer I would be able to hold out. I breathed a purely mental sigh of relief when I saw that she was not impressed. Good, it would be safe to make a few quiet remarks.
We wandered around a bit more. I saw something that looked like someone was doing something under a short set of stairs. They had left their supplies there and maybe were taking a break of some sort. It turns out that that was a piece of art. It was a finished work. OK.
There was nothing more we wanted to see and we had a lot of the afternoon left. I felt bad. I was hoping that the museum would be interesting. We both agreed that it was someplace we wouldn't need to see again.We went to a small Italian deli for lunch. Across the street was a consignment store that Patricia likes.
That sounded good to me. I'm not the shopper that Patricia is, but she has very good taste in clothing. I had shopped with her before and liked looking at what she picked out both for me and herself. I found two cute sweaters for me and a nice tie for C.
It turned out to be a fun afternoon anyway.
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