Bicycle whims
I so enjoy being whimmy with my wife. Last night, at her suggestion, we bopped over to the MIA for their "Third Thursday" event, where there is music, mingling, and free art. Of course the MIA itself is always free, but on the third Thursday of every month they open things up, usually with some sort of theme, and even their featured pay exhibit is gratis for the evening.
Last night's theme, in honor of the Tour de France, was "Tour de Force." Ostensibly a showcase of transportation-themed art, it was really just a plug to get a metric tonne of people on bicycles to the museum. And a metric tonne of people on bicycles there were. Including Peterson's Pedicabs, which I think is just about the awesomest idea ever and will surely be stealing for a future story. There was also a bicycle valet, which may be the second-awesomest idea ever. It's hard to say. There is sliced bread to take into consideration.
Alas, leorathesane and I were not among the metric tonne of people on bicycles. I may be becoming the bicycle freak (I am wearing a Hub Coop t-shirt even as I write this), but the ride from our house to the museum is currently beyond my ability. So we drove. To a bike event. That was weird.
Much less bike-themed art was on offer than I expected. Mostly people were standing around on the main floor, listening to Kid Dakota, drinking beer, looking at underwear, seeing and being seen. We said, "Screw that," and looked at some art.
We walked through the Unspoken Messages: The Art of the Necklace exhibit, which was gorgeous and inspiring and I wished I could touch and made me want to go out and buy every cool necklace I could find. Then, after a strange interlude with a woman at the information desk that made me feel like I was back at the Steam Century mystery game ("Is the Holman Hunt exhibit free tonight?" "Do you have...one of these cards?"), we perused Sin and Salvation: William Holman Hunt and the Pre-Raphaelite Vision. I adore the Pre-Raphaelites. At least, I adore their values and what they tried to achieve (indeed, I'm now reinspired to read those books eal recommended oh those many years ago. If only I can remember what they were called. Or who wrote them). Turns out I'm not so wild about their paintings. Except for this one. And this one. I could've stared at "The Lady of Shalott" all night.
Except that the museum was going to close at 9, and we wanted to make a "vintage" bicycle poster. Neither of us finished, because Leora is a perfectionist, and I can't draw worth crap. But we have the posters, and colored pencils at home, and we will finish them, and I will probably put it up at work so my colleagues can marvel at my underdeveloped visual art skills. And then, Pip, what larks.