I onced shoved Mr. Hall in an art museum

Mr. Hall will be going to the same museum tomorrow. Let's hope there is less violence.



When we were dating, I shoved Mr. Hall in an art museum.

It was the post modern wing.

Mr. Hall has absolutely no patience for post-modern art.

It riles him. He feels this type of art is a scam. A waste. That it means nothing. Well, it means the buyer is a fool.

He said this as we walked through the post modern wing. Walking through the art installations.





I did my best to educate him on the theories and concepts behind post modern art. How the artists challenge themselves to reinvent what art through different mediums, different arrangements of objects. This way, art can be found anywhere and everywhere. They challenge all of us to define what art is. Or what it can be made of. I say this like a tourguide. All chipper, smiley and earnest.


That's just crap he says.





This goes on for some half an hour.




I try explaining it again. We both view a large painted canvas. It is solid yellow with the word commerce in green block letters.

Ya know what that says, he says to me, that says SUCKER!






I begin to bite my tongue. After all, I am not a fan of post modern art. In fact, I believe that it's better as a concept than a reality. I believe that post modern art fails to make the artist work at developing their ideas and honing their craft. It fails to challenge their creativity. It fails as art too. It is not art.

Yet, I am upset that Mr. Hall is not listening to me. Not even considering other ideas beyond his own. Even though I don't agree with post modern art, I appreciate that someone went to the trouble of giving it a go.





The final straw was two large squares of sheet metal, suspended from the ceiling, painted solid red. They are hung askew, tilted to the right.





He sees this and smoke comes out of his ears. THIS IS CRAP!! THAT IS JUST SHEET METAL HANGING FROM THE CEILING!!


I see the humor in his frothiness. I try to playfully push him, in a cute girlfriend kind of way.

I end up hauling off and shoving him. I really shoved him hard and from behind, with both hands even. I knock him off balance.

I was caught off guard by this. Such violence is not me. But I like it. I am very pissed off at this point. I mean, can't he just expand his mind a little? I'm all steamed.

So I attempt to shove him again. Only this time, he grabs my wrists.

My husband has an excellent kinesthetic use of his own power. He was deft with his defense.

We both stopped. Realized how ridiculous this was. Laughed a little. It was odd. And never repeated.

But even now, some eight years later, I am still perturbed. He had such ire over post modern art. Still does. And really, I agree with him.

I'm still mad though. Not sure why. But, either way, post modern art is pretty much crap.

I leave you, as I began, with a contrast between Norman Rockwell and Jackson Pollock.

Guess which I am a fan of.




The Connoisseur by Norman Rockwell circa 1962


Have a good weekend.

And try not to get into any art related fights. Unless it's body painting, then, by all means-have a go ;)