| Subject: A Trip to the Alpha Gallery |
Author:
Holly
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Date Posted: 16:16:01 03/06/04 Sat
Call me naive, but I was really looking forward to today. Suzanne Vincent, a local painter who practices a kind of hyper-realism, was opening her show at the Alpha Gallery. She's a mommy, and kids were invited.
The Alpha Gallery is on Newbury Street, Boston's anwer to Rodeo Drive. Store managers lined up seriatim in front of their doorways, Chanel, Armani, Ann Taylor, faces ascowl, arms folded, in case the Giant, the tweenie, and the thing in the tattered mommy jacket might be thinking of coming in. Two impeccably dressed gentlemen got into a heated discussion over a parking spot, and folks hurried past, pretending not to notice, until it looked like the situation might escalate to fisticuffs. Cellphones flashed like SWAT rifles from every direction. Both gentlemen moved on, leaving the parking place for the next lucky Lexus.
The gallery was ... a gallery. Big paintings. White walls. And there were kids. Really little ones, still bundleable. Bigger ones, mini-sophisticates, sipping their grape juice from the same tiny cups used to hold the free wine. Not another 3-year-old in sight. Did I mention that the walls were white?
Samson immediately began sprinting around the room, first in a zig-zag pattern, then in circles. That would have been enough, but he discovered that Mommy made a really funny noise if he made like he was going to touch a painting.
And an even funnier noise if he actually touched one.
We attracted the attention of the artist. She introduced herself to us. Samson reached into the Starbucks bag he carries everywhere and pulled out his spare pair of Spiderman underwear. As Ms. Vincent was oohing and ahhing over them, Sammy bolted for the wall and hit it with a flying karate kick that left perfect little black treadmarks from his Spiderman boots.
As he ran toward the other wall, his Daddy lunged first with a pretty long arm (he's 6'4), and then with a longer leg. Daddy's forty and can't get his legs as high as he used to, so, instead of blocking Samson, Daddy managed to trip Samson. Boom. Right down on his little face, fat lip and everything. And then the shrieking began.
No, I didn't shriek; that was Samson. I'm pretty sure I hissed at the Daddy thing, though.
Can't wait for the next show!
BTW, Suzanne Vincent is freaking awesome. You can see some of her work here:
Suzanne Vincent at the Alpha Gallery
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