covid notes 46

Apparently I miss art museums.

 

Last week I went to the chiropractor. I was sent to wait in one treatment room while she finished treating someone in the other.

 

I was attracted to a piece of art on the wall. I walked over. It was a photograph, but oddly impressionistic. Beautiful. Glacial, mountainous, skyfull.

 

I then looked up to my left, where, against the same white wall, was a white frame. Within its borders was a white textile, quilted, rectangular, slightly askew.

 

An interesting choice, I thought. So different from the photograph, but not unlike some pieces I’d seen in modern art museums.

 

And then it occurred to me that it might not be art. I looked out a window to confirm the air conditioner pushing out behind it.