Sunday, May 17, 2009

Art Museum with a Doug -- Take 2

The last time I went with a Doug to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, it was almost a comical day.

This particular Doug was a fine artist, the black-eyeliner kind that would later move to New York City and live the life of an eccentric, cutting-edge, no-boundaries kind of guy.

You would think that spending an afternoon with that type of Doug in a nationally-known art museum would be a slow-moving, analytical process, where each piece of inspiration was poured over, contemplated, and perhaps sketched in one of those mysterious black journals that only real artist-types carry with them everywhere.

But indeed just the opposite happened.

After giving our Sunday donation, it was as if the museum attendant had fired a gun into the sky and yelled, "Go!" for this Doug took off nearly running and become nothing more than a passing streak of light for the rest of the afternoon, one which I occasionally caught on the periphery of my viewing.

It was the most bizarre phenomenon, and I couldn't understand his haste. If he was trying to make his way to a particular area of the museum where he would then spend the rest of his time at leisure, I would understand. But no, that wasn't his agenda. Just moving quickly was. I know this because I kept seeing him streaking by like a marathon runner.

Perhaps he couldn't stand one more minute of my conversation, and so he had to stay on the move. Or maybe he was checking out the crowded rooms of people instead of the art. Who knows. All I know is that my friends and I didn't see a normal-paced Doug again until we found him near the exit door, panting from exhaustion and ready to go.

I could have asked about it on the car ride home, but I didn't press him. Maybe I wanted to keep him as mysterious as I could in my mind. All I know is that that day was indeed memorable and comical and makes me wonder if today's trip to the same museum with another Doug will be anything similar.