I wandered, clutching his arm as I peered around every corner to peek at a new group of paintings. He rolled his eyes as I dragged him to a statue lit under a beam of white light.
“Can we please go soon? This place is driving me nuts.”
I choked back a laugh. “You’re an artist. How can you hate galleries?”
He pulled me to the far corner, gesturing to the rows of paintings hung on alabaster walls. “They’re so stifling.” He pointed to the wire keeping viewers at a distance. “You’re not even allowed to get close enough to appreciate them.”
My eyes darted around the room, watching as viewers stood back while they drifted from one piece to the next. Some ignored entire sections, stepping past statues, around sculptures, and through hallways without a glance.
“I think I see what you mean, but they have to protect some pieces. You know, the oil from your hands-”
“Then they should keep those in glass cages as far as I’m concerned.” His nostrils flared as he turned away from an aging statue. “Art is supposed to mean something, so how can you enjoy it if you’re not allowed to interact with it?”