What was my favorite part of our Thursday night tour of the Blanton, Ray guiding us through? Maybe the chat in the parking lot afterwards. Maybe Laura saying she’ll come back with her daughter, Nelly saying that art speaks to her soul. Maybe Ray’s voice soft and leading us to circle the sculpture of the giant man with the woman on his shoulders. Maybe the cluster of students on gallery stools pondering pink dogs. Maybe the moment Norman Rockwell became someone with something to say. Maybe finding the trapeze artist still swinging toward us, defiance still on her face. Maybe Crystal’s picture taking. Maybe Joanna’s wondering if the lobby was marble. Maybe Ben standing quietly to the side, but watching. Maybe the first stop, all of us a bit breathless from the climb up the stairs, when we craned our necks to consider glider, butterflies, the possibility of flight.
February 19, 2015