Elizabeth, not Liz, not Lizzy, not Beth, but Elizabeth introduced herself in a soft, but self-assured voice. “Im the docent here,” she said with a noticeable air of pride. When I say noticeable, I do mean noticeable. We’re talking Getty Museum level pride, or perhaps the New York Museum of Art – notwithstanding the fact that we’re in a small town museum with a city population of less than 1,000. That’s OK, ‘cause I’m paying rapt attention to ‘Lizzy.’ Sorry, anyone that it is this serious needs to relax.
“This our natural materials exhibit,” Lizzy tells us. “Did you see vase cover over there?” I nod. “Do you recognize the material,” Lizzy asks. “Chicken feet skin,” I offer.
Lizzy is impressed, both with the vase and the fact that I know my chicken feet. Even after being raised on a farm, I had no idea one could skin a chicken’s foot – or that an artist would even want to do so. That said, the vase looked very, uh… uh… distinctive. Artsy and distinctive. Moving right along.
“Did you see the vase decorated with salmon tails?” Of course we did. Actually, there are several vases covered with various fish parts and Liz is just getting warmed up. As for me, I’m starting to panic. I love museums; I love art – even ‘novel’ art which this exhibit certainly is. I know Liz just wants (and I mean, really, really, really wants) us to enjoy the exhibit, but my polite smile is starting to fracture into an amused grin and I do not want to hurt Elizabeth’s feelings. She might, after all, end up serving as the basis for a character in a future work.
Happy Writing!
Bob
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