During the summer all over my Instagram feed were pictures with the #sotosummer. You all know I don’t like to be left out so I had to find out what this was, how could I do it and then post it on Instagram myself. I have total FOMO, in case you didn’t already know.
Once I realized it was at the Museum of Fine Arts my stomach sank. I am not on the best of terms with the MFAH. I mean, I am allowed in (so far) but they are not happy to see me coming.
Back in the spring, I took the boys one afternoon. Zach is very into art and I packed some crayons and drawing pads and thought he could draw what he saw as we walked around the museum. You would have thought we walked in carrying spray paint for the amount of stares we received and the number of docents following us around.
I mean, I get it, the art is priceless and the sculptures are old. However, I have a little boy who is fascinated with art and in whom I would like to cultivate a love of art. Can you give us some breathing room, Nancy?
But I do also have James. A three year old who wants to touch, climb, smell, lick and caress everything. He may or may not have darted up to what he thought was a wall, pushed against it an almost fell into a sculpture. It was metal, like it would have been hurt. But Nancy was NOT pleased.
I left with such a horrible feeling about the place. I felt like a bad mother because I have a three year old and like a failure for even trying to do something with art for Zach. Instead of getting sad about these feelings, I turned them into anger at the museum.
So when I decided we were going to the Soto exhibit, you know I went in guns hot. Don’t even come over here Nancy, I will cut you and your blunt cut bob.
To be clear, the exhibit is “A vast, floating sea of plastic strands suspended from the ceiling…”. Basically plastic spaghetti. My boys were enthralled. They walked (not ran) through it with their arms stretched out, they got lost in it and called to each other (not yelled) and we reunited in the middle to lay down and look up.
But we were not alone….Nancy was back and brought Ray with her this time. At one point James was holding up the end of the strands and connecting them together to see if they were the same size. Ray rushed over and told me “He can’t be tugging on those, ma’am”. I did not even hesitate in my stare down of Ray and told him he was not. I was not going to get into it the fact that by James holding them up, it in fact took pressure off the hanging strands aka the opposite of “tugging”. He continued to stare and I continued to not tell James to stop.
And the boys loved the exhibit.
I loved that they got to experience the art, touch it, wander through and enjoy it. They didn’t know about the anxiety I was feeling nor did they notice Nancy watching them.
As it should be, NANCY…..