I’m pretty into the idea of going to one of the local college’s usually free art museum. They get some pretty cool, pretty legit stuff to show sometimes. So sometime back in 2009, me and mom were sitting around with nothing to do. Dad was out doing something…I don’t remember what. Probably something with Young Men’s or something. Anyway, mom remembered that the museum had a Victorian display set up for the next while and asked if I wanted to go. Heck to the freakin’ yeah!
Man. There were some really cool pieces there and some really beautiful ones too. Some of them were very thought-provoking with the symbolisms being used. My only regret on that trip is that I didn’t write down any names. There was one piece that was…well…let’s put it this way: How could we not pause and comment on this one? It was called something like, “Red Haired Beauty”. I guess if your taste in…people…happens to be that, then sure. I went over to this piece and just stared. Initial thoughts, excuse the language, What the hell is that? Looking back on that thought process, I should have said heck like a good Mormon girl. Eh, I do swear from time to time though, so no biggie to me…I apologize to some of my fellow, better-behaved members though. As I thought that thought and stared at this picture, I could hear myself saying, “Is that a man or a woman?” Mom came over after I asked that, curious.
She stared in shock at the picture at a momentary loss for words, “I…I don’t know.”
I couldn’t decide what it was either, so finally I responded with a,
“It’s…a manly woman?”
“Or maybe it’s a cross dresser.”
“I hear that sometimes they used men as models back then….”
“So it must be a cross dresser.”
“Whatever makes him feel pretty I guess. Are you sure that it isn’t a woman who was most unfortunately made to look like a man..?”
The conversation went on after that, and there were some people surrounding us that were laughing a little at our comments, but this story isn’t about this picture. Although, to this day, I still can’t decide what gender the subject of that picture was.
There was a piece in particular that made me pause. I was observing it for at least an hour. It was huge and beautiful and amazing and very thought-provoking. Lots of symbolism. I was fascinated with it…but I haven’t been able to find out what the title of it was, sadly. But I fell in love with this piece.
What I didn’t know what that the security cameras were on and that the security guards were bored. I guess if I was a security guard for an art museum, I would be too. Not much you have to do after all. Theoretically. There weren’t many people in the museum at that time, so they were bored. Naïve me is sitting here standing by this picture and pointing towards some of the areas to describe to my mom what I felt the symbolism was in those areas. I’m all, “Oh pretty pink, it must mean the artist was in love!” Ha, kidding. I promise I’m not that dumb of a blonde. I can certainly talk that way if I needed to though. >.>
The next thing I know, two security guards approach us from behind. Mom’s nodding at what I’m saying and throwing in some input as well as to what she thinks. I keep going. And then….
“Ma’am, we need you to move away from the painting.”
I keep going, not realizing the guard was talking to me.
“Ma’am?” I hear a few footsteps approach this time.
I turn and look and point at myself like, “Me?” The guard nods, the other one is standing a few feet away. I put on my freaked-out face.
“What did I do..?”
“You were touching the painting, and that’s not allowed.”
“Huh? No I wasn’t. I was pointing at it, but I never touched it…what makes you say I was?”
The guard then proceeded to tell me that on the cameras it looked like I’d been touching the painting because of the way they were angled and because of how close I was. Then the guard apologized and also explained why it’s bad for the painting to be touched. (I was sitting there thinking, “Yes, I know why.”)
And then I was told to stand a few feet back.
Needless to say, we left shortly after because I was really embarrassed.
But what I didn’t know, my dad pointed out later that night, was that behind the wall was a bunch of security guards with tasers, ready to spring if I put up resistance. You see, the guards on camera duty had seen me and talked into a walkie-talkie for them all to hear.
“Code red! One of the paintings is in danger!”
They all rushed down there in their boredom, hoping for something to do. The ones that didn’t get there first were waiting to give backup if needed.
So the moral of the story: Be careful when security cameras are on. You never know when you’ll encounter a bored security guard.
Not that I’m saying they shouldn’t have come talk to me – no, no. They should have. If it looked like I was touching the painting, they have a job to do. I like the fact that they do their jobs…I’m just being a bit of a brat. ^^;;
Have a good one!
