ART COLLECTOR
And Thoughts About Date Night
Wednesday. Midweek. Hump Day.
At work, Wednesday is the day of the week when you can figure out if you’re actually going to finish the tasks you’ve set out for the week. Realizing that you just don’t have enough hours in the day, or in the rest of the week, to finish your list can feel so defeating. I’m a fan of Monday mornings. I like to have my week ahead of me, with my project list organized and ready. It feels so good to put a check mark next to each completed task.
At home, Wednesday is the day of the week when I start thinking about the weekend. The pressure starts to build when I realize that (once again!) we don’t have any plans for the weekend. I hop onto social media and begin the search to fill at least one date night.
When the kids were home, weekends were full of sports games, pizza nights, and family outings. One of our favorite Friday haunts was the “Big Bookstore.” We would all get a treat from the bookstore’s café and venture into the children’s section to read the latest books, play with the puppet theater, or explore the latest and greatest Lego kits. There were always other parents around for us to talk to and other children for our kids to play with. Recently, I returned to our local Big Bookstore for a visit, but it wasn’t the magical place that I remember.
And now you see me back on social media, determined to find an activity for this week’s date night . . . Aha! . . . I land on a post for an art walk. All the surrounding communities have their own versions of this monthly event. Most include wine or beer, but my favorites also include bacon! Because, as we all know, everything is better with bacon—it’s just a fact. You can count on the First Friday, Third Friday, or Fourth Friday to be the night for a downtown art walk in just about every community within a 20-mile radius.
Friday night has now arrived, and with my husband in tow, we set out. No bacon this week, but I try not to let that ruin the evening. With wine in hand to console ourselves, we are now ready to stroll through the local galleries.
Thus, the conversation begins.
“Are we going to buy anything tonight?”
It’s better to get this talk started early and out of the way. Arguing about the price is so embarrassing (not to mention tacky) in front of the local artist or gallery owner.
And then there’s a conversation that’s even worse . . . one that often turns into a heated discussion in front of the artist. “What makes THIS a piece of ART?”
And you guessed it. My husband and I don’t agree on it.
Remember that art appreciation class you took in college? It made you feel so confident when you used words like genre, color palette, perspective, and composition. Those days are long gone; now you just want to fill an empty wall and not clash with the sofa. Even with these very simple requirements, selecting a piece is difficult for us. My husband likes animals. Very literal and close-up paintings, photographs, and drawings of animals. I tend to go for pieces that are a little more abstract, pieces that suggest foliage, especially of a tropical nature. This has led to the rooms in our house having themes. The Africa Room—his. And the Hawaii Room—mine.
We now enjoy our monthly art walks and avoid these embarrassing conversations by simply deciding whether the piece will find a home in the Africa Room or the Hawaii Room.
And we head out, even if there’s no bacon involved, feeling like confident Art Collectors.
