It’s been awhile since I’ve been to a museum. I used to go to museums all the time but burned myself out during the four years I spent pursuing an interdisciplinary studies degree that I pretentiously titled “The Sociology of Art.” There were times when I would go to a museum and just walk around pretending to be in a Woody Allen movie.
After college, I discovered that I got just as much pleasure scrolling through Kelly’s Korner in my pajamas as I did fake-nodding at art in an exhibit hall. I moved home to the Midwest and unceremoniously exchanged the high arts for episodes of Jon and Katie Plus 8 and a stack of Jennifer Weiner novels.
Please note: this is
not the Midwest’s fault. I live in a
city with a world-class arts scene. I
was just being lazy.
Anyway, I’m growing up, and with adulthood comes the responsibility
of participating fully in society. This
is the year.
On a lovely Sunday in
May I met three of my favorite ladies at the Taft Museum of Art, which sits on
the edge of Downtown in Lytle Park. I
was a little early (I have OCD, I’m always a little early) so I took a few smug
selfies to mark my return to the fine arts.
The 1820’s Greek Revival building and its landscape could
stand alone as an attraction. The day we
went, the peonies were blooming and the courtyard was lushly green.
The special exhibition was called The Threads of Heaven: The Silken Legacy of China’s Last Dynasty.
The Eight (blurry) Buddhist Emblems:
The Taft Museum was built as a private home and it is neat
to imagine the Tafts walking around in their bare feet and sweatpants. Which they probably didn’t do. This was well before “Celebrities Just Like
Us”.
Two of my favorite
paintings in the main collection are the portraits of the saucy Queen Maria Luisa of Spain and
Duveneck’s Cobbler’s Apprentice.
While we were enjoying the artwork, Maggie reminded us of
the time in junior high when she brought home a pencil drawing of a dinosaur
that she had done in art class. Carol
thought it was so great that she had it framed and displayed it in the living
room. A few weeks later it came out that
Maggie had had more than a little “help” from the teacher.
Basically the teacher drew the dinosaur.
I may or may not have been the one to let the cat out of the
bag.
Our lack of artistic integrity may have been the reason
Carol was SO MAD at us when we decided to break out the paints and paint an
exterior wall of their house a weird cream color.
Luckily, Maggie and Carol resolved their artistic
differences.
After touring the museum, we felt so peaceful and inspired
that we ended our visit with a little courtyard yoga:
I can pretty much guarantee the Tafts would have
approved.
-K.
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