Today I took the girls downtown to catch an exhibit traveling through the art museum: "Turner to Cezanne." This is my favorite period in all of art history, and one of my favorite paintings, Berthe Morisot's At Bougival was there. If you don't know the painting, it is of the artist's nanny in a lovely field with the artist's daughter.
My girls were awesome. Very interested and well-behaved, asking questions and commenting, not touching things or running. The exhibit wasn't cheap, but it's fleeting, the museum is only open weekday afternoons while the girls are normally in school, and for the next month Anna is still free. They enjoyed the kid's area where they could try their hand at a few things, and we ended up buying a Buddha board (think nice-enough-to-put-in-your-living-room-on-display-Aquadoodle) because they loved it so much, and because my living room still lacks decorations and I liked the idea of everyone's changing masterpieces being continually on display. Plus, I knew Jeff would think it was cool and look the other way when I presented the receipt, something that does not often happen in decorating at our house.
As the girls and I were walking, we encountered whom I am almost certain was a homeless mom and her daughter. The woman was about my age, the girl about Anna's. They just kind of watched us walk by, not asking us for anything, sitting with all their stuff. Well-dressed, well-groomed (maybe except Anna with the mandarin orange juice in her hair), with a nice vehicle, art museum tickets and purchase, house with an office/guest room us.
I don't even know what to do with that. Art loses signifcance juxtaposed with flesh and blood.
2 comments:
Wow. Tiffany, you need to write a book. I was just sitting here wanting a TV and then read your post. WOW. Thank you once again!
Ellie you always give such encouraging responses - it means a lot to me. You must have a blog too that I should check out?
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