I knew I was supposed to marvel at paintings and sculptures—and I did for the first twenty minutes of the visit—but I was too tired to focus on anything in particular. It had been a long day, an exhausting one too. I was ready to go home and relax and it was already 8 p.m.
“Want some Vitamin C?” I asked my mom, who was also yawning.
“Gonna start charging you now that you’re hooked on my precious tablets,” I joked.
“What is it, mommy?”
“None of your business, Mark. Trust me, you don’t need more energy.”
Thursday night is free admission night at Nantes’ art museum. I usually enjoy a yearly visit but after Paris, the provincial museum didn’t feel that exciting—been there, done that, and the collection doesn’t change much from one year to the next.
“Let’s go see the four small Kandinsky.”
“This room, on your left.”
“I’m skipping it. Too tired to even complain about it.”
We were almost alone in the museum, which felt weird after a crowded Sunday at the Musée d’Orsay.
I started paying more attention to the building and the rooms than the exhibitions.
Nice place. The light was amazing. Holy shit, look at the size of this painting! I wonder what the trick is to hang such large and presumably heavy artwork…
The few other visitors caught my attention as well. Some seemed to be discovering art while others were going straight from one specific painting to another, taking notes instead of taking selfies.
“I would have loved to hear the posing instructions for that one,” I whispered to my mom. “’Honey, just lie naked on the bed, don’t worry about our kid, the nanny will take care of him’”. The painting was depicting a woman naked on a bed with a small child and another lady beside him in the background.
“Typical,” my mom sighed. “Men and priorities…”
“Okay, let’s take a look at Les Cribleuses de blé and go.”
“Is that an ostrich, mom?”
“It’s… art, I suppose.”
Everything can be art, even the museum itself and the visitors.