Adventure

Yesterday we went to the newly re-opened Seattle Art Musee. It wasn't quite what I expected. And we agreed- it still isn't as good as the Phoenix Art Musee. And no where near LACMA. But there you have it.

I saw some good things. A bust by Houdoin was particularly great- of his 4 year old daughter. Truly wonderful. Even captured the shadow of her dimple. There was a model of his Voltaire in the Phoenix museum. Loved it too.

And the Boy finally got to see in person my abject and total fear of African art. Masks in particular. Ditto Polynesian masks. And most Native American masks. Total gut churning fear. Cannot stand to be in the room. Must escape from the eyes.

Why, you ask? Well, mainly because they are so damned chock full o hoodoo. And I don't think they belong in museums being stared at by me. They had a different purpose, and really are too chock full of hoodoo to piss off. Bad, bad karma to touch them. Even worse to own them.

And there you have it. One of my very few, but sometimes awkward little superstitions. I felt like apologizing to the masks when I entered the room. But there were people around, and I didn't want security to escort the crazy chick out of the building. I think that The Boy thought it was funny.

But I'm sayin- bad, bad hoodoo. Gak.

Then I came home and took a nap. As advertised previously.