When I was in college, greedily lapping up all the art-history and classical civilizations classes I could, I dated a sweet, sweet waiter named Christian. He was from Hell’s Kitchen. He didn’t know a lot about art, or literature, or anything that involved aesthetic sensibility. But he was a great cook, supersexy tennis player, fun to dance with, and good, good, good as gold.
But there were three “strikes” that led to the ending for me. The first was that he wore gray jazz shoes when we went on a date. Mind you, this was the late ’80s, but still. Um. I have always looked to a man’s shoes as a way to decode him, a kind of cultural and personality Rorschach test, if you will. That may sound very unfair and slightly unkind, but hey, it was the ’80s. Enough on that.
The second strike was something he said at a private moment. It was so private, in fact, that I will not even share it on this blog.
The third strike was that we went to MOMA, the modern art museum in NY. We were looking at some Mondrians, and I was reguritating all I had learned about abstract art: That it is not representative. Rather, it’s more about the impression the work leaves, that it’s how a piece plays, how it makes you feel, the geometry and balance of it all, blah blah blah. And after this lengthy explanation, he nodded in deep understanding, took a long look at the piece, and turned to me and said, “So the blue is the water?”
Personally, as the product of an AMAZING artist mother and grandmother, I have always felt particularly untalented when it comes to painting. But I took this abstract art class from the Annie Wharton (she’s so cool and lovely and funny and chic. I can’t believe she’s my friend) and I was really pleased with some of my creations. I felt satisfied, like I did when I was about 5 and made this series of posters of a guy looking at a clock that I thought were so hilarious and I put them on my wall and laughed and laughed for a year, it didn’t matter if anybody else got it.
This is a nice surprise about being 40licious — there’s more to tackle. I will never run out of stuff to learn.