curation at the bodega
When I was on a trip to San Francisco last year I walked by a convenience store that had many, many small paintings displayed on the sidewalk in front of the store. The prices were right so I marched right to the gentlemen behind the counter and purchased these:
The man said “Hold on, please, let me call the artist so she can sign your work.” Down from the upstairs apartment came a lovely young woman of about 11 who graciously signed my new artwork. I’d tell you this up-and-comer’s name but I can’t read her signature. She and I had a brief conversation about art.
Me: Is art what you want to do as a career?
Artist: No, I want to be a cardiologist!
Well, okay, then! I love my paintings. I love the little lambs dotting the farm landscape in the painting on the right, and look — just look! — at that cocky chicken on the left! He’s got knees!
He’s ready to give the morning some what-for, isn’t he?
I spent a lot of time that trip annoying Molly with my bent-knee chicken pose.*
I love my crazy art collection.
*Oh, wait: rooster, right?
Again – you are fabulous. I love that you bought these.
Aw, thanks! If I’m in the neighborhood next time I’m in SF, I’m going in for more…
Rooster knees!
That is all.