The least perceptible movement of air pushed against my face, and my eyes opened slowly. This was warm, moist air from the Pacific; the kind of air that San Fransisco is famous for. I had taken the red eye to California that morning, sped to the art museum, and spent the morning absorbing notable works of Modern art. I was tired enough when I sat down at the rooftop cafe, that I thought I was sitting next to a large, closed window overlooking the atrium sculpture garden.
I sipped tea with cream and sugar, and rested my eyes. What I thought was a big window was actually an open door and I was literally at the threshold. By analogy, perhaps it was the threshold of springtime, this being the first good weather I've experienced this year. It was a pleasant unwinding. My first trip to a museum after the long winter, cooped up in my stuffy and busy studio in eastern Washington.
Since my business in California was to judge some art, I used the SFMOMA as a sort of warm-up for my critical mindset. What would it be like for me to be a first-time jurist for an art event? It is especially hard to come off the farm (literally - my studio is on our farmstead) and engage with other people's artwork.
Let me tell you, kind reader, it was plenty fun to tear into the biggies enshrined at the Museum of Modern Art. It was only practice, and the shoulders of these giants are plenty big enough to tolerate my arrows. And, I did sling a few. Return here next time, and we'll dish the greats with some relish and some salt.
The San Fransisco SFMOMA is nothing, if not convenient. Me in front of a well known Marcel Duchamp object.