Loser's Guide to Life
“Turn right, no, there you go. End of this hallway, then into another gallery. It's a little hard to see at first.”
I'll say. I was in the basement with the cement turtles when a lot of students came through, obviously eager to get to the exhibition. They carried glossy materials and learning-aids and had come in from the country, inspired to such a frenzy by their art teacher that they looked on the other visitors, those not so inspired, as profane wanderers. I followed them, because they seemed to know a thing or two. They had a plan.
We passed through a heavy door and ascended a newly-wrought flight of stairs to emerge in the Superior Exhibition Gallery. Here the air was thinner and the light was rich, unending.
Soon we were all confronted by one of his paintings, and then another, and another, and another, and another, and another.