A few weeks ago, while in Boston, a friend gave me a free ticket to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Now I’m not a regular museum goer. I support the arts, but my lip service is enough. I rarely want to pay admissions (one time I paid $25 at the Virginia Historical Society to spend 20 minutes staring at Downton Abbey costumes), and once I’m there, I feel low class compared to the seemingly more informed art viewers who pause, lean in toward each other, hand on jaw, other hand indicating a brush stroke, and whisper.
I see a picture of a girl walking a dog, read the placard (“Oil on canvas”), and I’m done.Read More