Exercising patience and tolerance in all facets of life
We went to an art exhibit the other evening. When you retire, you do things like that: go to an art exhibit with your wife. There was wine and crackers with cheeses I could not pronounce. There were little cheese placards there to endorse my ignorance. The food presentation looked like art itself; I wasn’t sure if I should eat it or appreciate it, so I ate it.
Now don’t get me wrong. I am not here to take the typical “I-don’t-get-it” attitude about art that is associated with the culturally challenged. And although I enjoy the honesty that those fellows bring to the table (they call it like they see it), my problem is the people who pretend they get the profound meaning of art but clearly do not.
Artistic Interpretation
One piece was a charcoal and chalk combo that depicted a panic-stricken gentleman who’d backed himself into a corner on the floor and was frantically covering part of his face for whatever near-impact event was about to happen. One observer said, quite accurately I thought, “Oh, his boss must be giving him a last assignment just before the weekend.”
Then a lady said, “Oh, look hon, that’s how you look when I bring the bills in from the mail.”
