It's in a museum. It must be art.

Yesterday we went to the Museum of Modern Art. We found ourselves at different places along the spectrum of "Huh? What the crap?" You can guess where I end up. Always moderate, always reasonable. I don't have to tell you.



This was a cool red thing. This couple studied it for a really, really, really long time. After I got done studying it (in about five seconds), I started studying them. They would sit, stare, discuss, stand up, walk over, point out some subtlety in the red, stand back, stare some more, go back sit down, examine, and, well, you get the idea. Watching them was fun.

Watching people either worshipping or laughing hysterically at the art was worth the price of admission. And that was not cheap.

I'll be the first to admit that a lot of abstract art is cool and interesting, and that the stuff I don't like can frequently be interpreted in different ways, and what has zero meaning to me may have deep meaning for another. But when it comes to stuff like this,


I find myself at a bit of a loss.

Lola found meaning in everything. Even this:


It's a brown square. With a purple border. Please.

Daltonboy, you may have already guessed, falls on the "What the crap is that? Wait. Don't answer. I don't care. I'll be waiting outside." end of the spectrum. No respect for the attitude of "We're in New York. Let's pretend we have a little culture." I got a kick out of trying to capture his various expressions of disbelief.





I took sadistic pleasure in saying things like, "Did you see the giant square of red jello?" or "Hey! You've got to check out the three-foot wide matching piles of crap they have in that gallery over there. One's silver and one's gold." And watching his head explode.

After MoMA, we took a palate cleansing walk through Central Park and headed over to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where everyone found something to their liking, and we all left happy. Also, we left feeling like we hadn't been stiffed. To avoid an embarrassing scene (lunch at MoMA had cost $40 and nerves were wearing thin), I left DB at the bag check and went to buy the tickets myself. The woman selling tickets said, "Suggested donation, $50." I said, "How about $25?" She said, "If you like," and rung me up. That's the kind of admission price I can love. And for $15 less, the art was exceedingly superior. I mean, did MoMA show me the actual costume Robert Downey, Jr. wore in "Iron Man"? No. They did not. Nor did MoMA show me this:

Now that's some art the masses can get behind!