Last week, or maybe it was the week before, Mary and I spent some time one afternoon at one of my favorite places, the Milwaukee Art Museum, or MAM as we refer to it. I never get tired of going there, and even though we've visited it a thousand times over the past few years, every time we go we discover something new and extraordinary that we had somehow overlooked on our previous visits.
Now that the 2yr renovation and remodeling of the place is complete, we have more incentive than ever to visit and rediscover our favorite artworks displayed in new galleries. The world outside disappears for the time we seek sanctuary within the walls that are adorned with such marvelous proof of man's ability to inspire awe in all those who view their efforts.
Our conversations as we wander through the galleries are always about the art in front of us. There always seems to be something new to say, even about our favorite paintings, some new insight that we feel compelled to share. So I was somewhat surprised when Mary was uncharacteristically quiet while we stood in front of several of the most amazing paintings showing the colors of nature in the wondrous light of the Southwest. We were in the Georgia O'Keefe gallery, one of Mary's favorite painters. I was sure she would have something to say about the new exhibit because the paintings were hung with such loving respect that the aura created in that gallery pulled you into the environment of color and light that Georgia O'Keefe alone was able to create on her canvas. Such forms, such composition, such suggested shapes defined by her impeccable understanding of light and color, and how each defines the other showcase her incredible talent. Whenever I see one of her paintings I appreciate her body of work more and more.
Basking in that aura that surrounded me and seemingly caressed my soul, I waited serenely for Mary to make an enlightened statement about what she was feeling in the presence of such greatness.
"Oh, shit. I forgot to buy radishes for our salad."