Woman in Heels, Man in Stripes – High Museum of Art
View On White
I saw this woman…
…and her shoes. Amidst the art, the shoes seemed a sculpture carrying this woman about. And the proportions of her legs, clothes, hair, perfect for the sculptured shoes and vice versa. I had to have a photo of her and tried inconspicuously for one but she kept standing in such a way that her shoes kept disappearing into the dark jeans and shoes of the man with her. Finally she moved over to the maze art and I got an adequate photo of her that was made better by the individual in stripes magnetically approaching the striped painting as if it was destiny they should eventually meet.
* * * * *
Marty’s mother was in town and we took her down to the Louvre and the Ancient World show at the High.
No photography is permitted around the special exhibits. Though I had my camera lens cap on and had the camera on its strap over my shoulder in a way where it would be difficult for me to reach it, security followed me about the entire time I was in the Louvre area. “No photos allowed,” they told me as I entered, and I said, yes, I knew because I do know all this, I’m not a stranger to the High. Security then followed me all around and I did my best to ignore this and remain interested in the art and relaxed. Then, when another security guy returned from his break, the first one brought over the second one to show me to him, which is when I began to feel quite uncomfortable and self conscious.
On top of that I had begun sketching in my moleskin with a pen that was on me and the first security guy pulled me aside a second time to tell me no pens (I’d forgotten some museums have this policy) and I saw he had some pencils and I asked for one and one for my son, as H.o.p. was going to be sketching as well. Then they not only followed H.o.p. around while he was sketching, but kept pointedly walking between him and what he was sketching (Marty noticed this and told me about it).
Y’know, I hate to complain but I don’t know why you get this attitude at the High. In New York, at every museum H.o.p. was sketching in, security was positive and encouraging, they loved to see a young person involved and making sketches.
On the other hand, when we went down to the High cafe to get something to eat, a security guard down there three times mentioned to us that there was a “special workshop” going on, nodding in its direction, and realizing he was really really wanting us to visit the special workshop, I took H.o.p. to the room and found there three individuals doing a children’s workshop on bas relief who were happy as could be for warm bodies and made us feel more than welcome.
H.o.p. and I had fun making large medallions of the clay provided (ours were particularly lame) then ran back up to the fourth floor where I caught this nice scene.