The Great Plains

Another week gone by, and the art world has not rested.

But I have.

Two reading weeks have been granted, and while I should be busy in every art museum across the whole of the greater London area, I have gone home to visit family.

In the exact middle of nowhere.

But the silver lining would have to be the presence of an art museum that has A Titian, An El Greco, A Pre-Raphaelite work, A Degas, A Renoir, A Calder, A Pollock...you get the idea. In short, a good collection to do a pop quiz from as study for next week's exams.

While congratulating myself on recognising a Holman Hunt work I heard footsteps nearby. Glancing up I heard a brief and perfunctory, 'Hello!' (Americans are so friendly...)

'Hi, err, do you work here?'

'Yea, what can I do for you?'

'Um, no, I don't actually need anything, I just wanted to ask a bit about what you do and programs the museum has on to get membership up, current exhibits and so on...I noticed that it's pretty empty in here for being such a great collection for the local area.'

'Well, it is blizzarding out.'

(I could have smacked myself.)

'Yea, of course. I should have taken that into consideration. But have you thought about programs for young people? Late night openings? Different events aimed at young adults to get membership drives up? Just, a few thoughts...'

'What do you do?'

'Oh, I'm from here, but I live in London now and I'm getting my MA in Fine and Decorative Arts from Christeby's. How did you get here?'

He introduced himself and gave me some background. He was a born and bred. Seems like that's the way to get ahead in America, to be someone that everyone grew up with. Damn my itchy feet.

'Well, it was nice to meet you.' And off he walked.

Fuck. Opportunity lost. Note to self, get business cards.

A little later, I recalled his first name and once again, opted for the nothing ventured mantra.

While leaving notes on ruled paper may be remarkably 1997, it was my only shot, and I took it. Writing what I hoped didn't come across as a desperate 'Write back to me!' note, (As midwesterners are finicky people, I should know, I am one.) I left my information and something that was vaguely funny.

Thank god I got a response yesterday or else I don't think I could have ever held my head up high in my hometown museum ever again.