Knitter Goes Out to the Art Show: Graceful as a Rock

So, there’s an art opening in town, and I happen to be related to one of the exhibitors. That means that

 1. I have a reason to go and look at a big collection of random art

 2. I get in free, which is the main bit, of course

 3. There is food. For me and most of the young children attending, this was the main attraction. Bottles of Corona for the adults also seemed to be a big draw. Kid you not.

 I swished elegantly through the door in my khaki colored denim skirt and my stripedly top. Elderly women in pantsuits and old men in pantsuits formed a large part of the crowd, in contrast to the young, pinked-haired or otherwise trendy 20 year olds there. It was a college student-faculty exhibit. Anyway, I get handed what looks like a checker, but is actually a drink token. No Corona for me, obviously, but they have Diet Coke, so that’s great.

 The Artist (my relation) proceeds to whisk me all over the room, introducing me to her friends, and hunting down her picture. I nod, smile, shake hands, and only pause when I spot this super cute guy with neatly trimmed, just to his shoulder blond hair and wearing a suit. He looked vaguely like a British villian, the kind that talks kindly and only turns nasty when the girl hero kicks him in a vulnerable spot. He couldn’t have been older than late twenties. I gawped a bit, and was informed that the punkish girl on his arm was his girlfriend. Ah, one can dream.

 “Ah, ooh, look at that!” I said incoherently, as I spotted some interesting pictures in the corner. I left the Artist with Punk Girl and British Man, and snapped some pictures.

 

Here’s the absolute best picture that I took all night, simply for the humor factor.

 

 See what I mean? And the funny bit is that she apologized all over the place for getting in the way of my picture. All night, people dodged my camera as if it were a nuclear missle–though, technically, if it WERE a nuclear missle, nothing except some of the odd metal sculptures would provide any protection. I experienced intense camera envy when one of the Artist’s friends showed up with a real camera, not the flimsy thing that I have.

 OH, and the food. Little bunsen burners sent up flickering flames as they warmed already overcooked chicken bites, breaded mushrooms, breaded peppers and horrible, greasy, cheese covered THINGs. I loaded my tiny plastic plate anyway, because I was absolutely starved. I avoided the greasy THINGS and stuck two chocolate covered strawberries on my plate. I remembered at the last minute to use the flagged toothpicks, rather than my fingers, to eat the food.

 However, my genius didn’t manifest itself until later, when I brilliantly tried to balance

 1 very full cup of Diet Coke

 1 plate full of food, chips and tortilla salsa

This was classic, peeps. I turned, and my plate just flew from my hand. Before I could stop it, salsa splattered all over my skirt, and the marble floor. Chicken bites and chips lay scattered over the ground in a much wider perimeter than I would have expected. A pantsuited woman next to me scrubbed at her pant leg as I frantically gathered up the plate and the scattered food.

 “Did I get something on you?” I asked.

 “Oh,” she said graciously, “I got it off.”

 Privately, she was thanking her stars that she wore black that night. I grabbed a handful of mint colored napkins and swiped at the worst of the salsa that stained the floor. Two punky girls gaped at me, as though they had never ever seen someone publicly disgrace themselves drop something.

 “Well,” I said cheerfully, wadding up the napkins, “Someone’s gotta have a talent for this stuff.”

 For the rest of the night, I actually felt much better, despite my salsa smeared skirt. (Ha, ha, alliteration) Now that it was obvious that I wasn’t exactly the most important or graceful person in the room, I felt free to be myself. Hey, old-man-with-the-pants-around-your-armpits, we’re both fashion failures!

 However, just so you know that I’m not entirely an uncultured clod, I leave you with one of my very favorite pictures of the night, one that I find almost haunting.

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March 22, 2008. Tags: , , . Uncategorized.

6 Comments

  1. jaygee replied:

    You write well! Glad I found your blog.

  2. Dava replied:

    First of all, let me say I hope you never stop writing.

    The photo of the racehorses is priceless. I really appreciate your eye for things; few have a sense of humor about art.

  3. AJ replied:

    I love that last pic! It reminds me of Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe pictures.

  4. sarahkatie replied:

    I can’t believe you didn’t snap a pic of the cute guy. JK. I just had to say that.

  5. Doulton replied:

    Wow! I love that photograph. The woman in pea-green looks so much like Tom Wilkinson I immediately thought and then I got thrilled that you, too, are watching JOHN ADAMS.

    Great great great picture. It’s much better than my own favorite catch in my photographic annals: one day in 1985 when I was in London in the metro—I took a picture of two rotund twins from behind walking side by side. They were dressed in identical pea-green jump-suits and had BIG BIG hair!

    Oh, I felt so Diane Arbus in that moment. You have the wits to get a front-face.

    Great blog.

  6. Taueret replied:

    funny! I would have loaded my plate with the horrible food too, and yep probably dropped it later on. at least you got some great photos.

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