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The Art Lesson
My idea of vacation involves leisure,
the joys of relaxation and fun in the sun.
But a three-day stretch of steady rain
has dashed my dreams of “funshine.”
My chances of being outdoors are now none.
Emma, trying to salvage our vacation,
suggests we do some exploring of a sort.
“There’s a great exhibit,” she says with high drama,
“of contemporary artwork in town.”
(In a storm, she seeks the shelter of a cultured port.)
And so, with a bit of reluctance,
I agree to explore contemporary art
(though it seems more like school than a holiday outing)
because I know Emma’s recommendation
comes from the depths of her well-meaning heart.
With umbrellas, we walk to the location
where some art group is hosting the event.
A sinking sensation hits me when I see
that the exhibit, despite the bad weather,
is being held in a gargantuan tent.
We enter the huge enclosure and find
awaiting our inspection, near and far,
canvases of all shapes and sizes,
works of art I must describe—if I’m honest—
as outright bizarre.
“See how this interpretation of nature
conveys a sense of peace,” Emma points and sighs.
But this work in question seems like nothing more than
vegetation cut, crushed, mashed, and tortured,
then stuck on canvas—at least to my eyes.
We move on, and Emma’s narration
continues in unrestrained delight.
“What use of light and shadow!” she exclaims breathlessly.
I feign appreciation, but really
all I see are blobs of black on white.
Again and again, her exclamations
of artistic splendor fall on deaf ears,
when, at last, a creation snares my imagination.
“Come see!” I say and escort Emma
to where this lovely masterpiece appears.
Bright tones against a subdued background,
an arrow and curved lines on display.
They draw in viewers, then guide us
to where satisfaction can truly be found:
The Artist’s Café.
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