"But I want to touch it."

when my mom came to visit me recently, i showed her the outrageous and gorgeous building i work in, and the astonishing gallery that is adjacent to the monstrous lobby. i had not previously entered the gallery. the idea of it made me nervous. a gallery in a lobby? privately owned historical works of art that are accessible to me, free of charge whenever i want as long as i use my supersecret all-access pass?!

we walked in at 1:30pm on thursday, november 2nd, and were immediately met with warhol's silver elvises. and about ten other warhols. and about six calders. and a cy twombly and maybe 8 chuck closes.

i stood there, stunned and stimulated, as i always am in the presence of big pop art. then, even more unexpectedly, my mom, in a delightfully childish motion, walked over to a stack of andy's brillo pad boxes and proclaimed,

i want to touch it.
no, you can't.
why not?
because it's fine art.
she looked at me like i was just kidding.

and she moved closer...
but i want to.

her fingers inched closer and closer to andy's brillo box. she looked at me again, in an endearingly, rebel sort-of-way, watching my face for a reaction. i paused dramatically, my breath held, my insides inflaming as i imagined her skin oil leaving a permanent mark on the pop art perfection.

mom. there's probably a camera on you right now.

and with that she moved away.

that's when my art talk started. it comes out of me unexpectedly in galleries. there are a lot of thoughts and ideas in my head about art and i forget that they exist. i explained to her why andy was a genius because he achieved a weird, and difficult art expression...a distinct lack of expression. i talked to her about, perhaps, why she liked one chuck close over the other. i was surprised to find that she very much enjoys modern art, like a stack of empty white blocks hanging from the ceiling and one calder mobile over another. she exhibited absolute feelings for difficult art...that i didn't expect. i really truly loved it when she would say about any particular piece, "ohhhh, i REALLY like this."

the gallery with my mom was an enjoyable experience and it showed me something i didn't really know about her, that she has an appreciation for abstract ideas...a beautiful thing to discover at such a late date in life. and from someone who really doesn't know that you do not, under any circumstances, touch an artist's work without their permission. such a funny juxtaposition. she, a baby boomer, a southern belle, a born-again christian, a woman born and raised in alabama, not a place where typical people have feelings about art, or abstract ideas, but more a place where typical people carry handguns in their fanny packs when they take their dogs out for walks in the early evening.

i saw my mom in the gallery in a whole new way. she was adorable in her innocence and sophisticated in her artistic taste.