Captivating Art

In the Buttler Institute of American Art, in Ohio, Marc stood in a long hallway wondering what to do next. He missed the bus back to school. He was stuck in an art gallery. 

“I could call on my cellphone. That would be OK. By Dad's rules it would be a necessary use.” He got the phone with detailed directions about what was legit and what was not.

“What if I just camp out here for a while? I’ve only camped out in fields before. No bugs this time. The scenery is easy on the eyes.”

It was late Spring. The school year would be ending soon. “Make it an adventure?” he thought.

He walked down the hallway into a large room. The class tour had skipped it. Curious, he demanded to see what all the others had missed. “The class didn’t see this, but I’m going to. I know how to check out an art exhibit.” He thought to himself. The self-satisfied smile said it all. “I’m making the best of it, just like mom always says to do.”

Along one of the walls, was a painting of a bunch of boys playing in a field. Marc thought “I’m glad I don’t have to dress like that.”

The hour was late, and he was settling in mentally. His parents might be worried. He would call later. Finding a vending machine and loose change in a pocket, he settled in for a snack. 

He walked past the painting of the boys again. All 8 of them seemed to be having a good time. Just rough-housing and enjoying … well enjoying being boys. He could almost smell the trampled grass and the buzz of insects. The painting was so realistic. He felt a sort of wishing he was there. The experience fit his mood at the moment.

 Curling up in a corner he dozed off for a while.  When he woke it was early morning. Too early for the gallery to open to the public.

He was awakened by a noise. He looked to the end of the room and near the entrance to the main hallway stood a young boy. He was thinking to himself, “I’ve seen docents before. This guy looks like he came early dressed in character. Maybe he’s rehearsing and getting into character. He’s fake as heck. What’s his story?”

Docents, he thought were pretty fake but just for kicks, he thought “Why not. I’ve got time and nothing else to do until the guard gets here and this place becomes official again. Then my adventure will end. I'll be lucky to only get kicked out.”

“Hey. I’m Marc.”

“I’m George.” the docent replied.

“Hi, George. What year in school are you?”

“I’m 15. I’m getting along in reading, and I like woodworking.”

“You make things out of wood?”

“I like the feel and smell of wood being sawed and sanded and put together. I’m learning to make cabinets. My big project will be a chest of drawers.”

“Wow. My parents just go to the store.”

“Hmm .. homemade seems better to me. I might take a liking to it when I pick a trade.”

“Where you from?”

“New York and around.”

“What games do you like?”

“Baseball. We have a little team that gets together. We do pretty good and I like to compete.”

Marc was running out of words. He meant computer games. This docent, he thought, picked a pretty boring time in history to enact.

“What else do you like to do?

“I like reading, I like helping my sister with her reading. She’s pretty advanced for her age. And I like listening to the stories the old folks tell about the war.”

“Me too” Marc replied. I enjoy hearing about tank warfare in Desert Storm and other battles in the Middle East.”

 “I like my dad’s stories about Pickett’s Charge and Gettysburg. “

It was Marc’s turn to look puzzled. He was trying to remember history class.

“I like investigating natural things.”

“Like what?”

“Making new types of apple trees,” George replied.

“You can do that?”

“It’s an art. And a science. You may not get anything worthwhile. By grafting parts of trees, you can get a combination. Good quality of one type plus positive traits of another.”

“Can you name one?”

“The Rome Beauty. It’s supposed to be from Lawrence County Ohio. It’s from around here somewhere. Maybe it was an accident, but I heard it was a good one.”

“I’ve seen them in the store. I had no idea. I get why you’d be curious. Maybe you could get a new tree or fruit named after you! Get famous even.”

“Could be, a little curiosity is ok, I guess.”

George said, “Not too bad for just digging in the dirt and working with saplings.”

“I’m impressed. But it’s too much like farming. Too messy for me.”

“Marc, what’s your favorite thing to do then?”

“I like making videos and editing them on my computer. “

Goerge had a blank look. He did hear but did not grasp. “Does that get messy too sometimes?”

Marc laughed. “Can I ever get a strange mess sometimes? Thanks for that. You’re right but not like getting dirt all over yourself. It’s different. It is funny what comes out.”

“George, how old is your sister?”

George gave him a suspicious look. “She’s 12 and I’m 15. We usually get along. She gets some funny ideas at times. Even for a girl!”

Marc smiled “Well I guess we have some things in common after all.”

You have a little sister too?

“Yep.”

“George, when do you have to get back to work? I mean as a docent don’t you have to go to wherever you do your thing? Your talk. You know?”

George had a funny look. “Not sure I follow but I have to return to my post pretty soon.”

“Marc, what’s your favorite holiday?

“4th of July. I like fireworks and all the bands and parades and stuff.”

“Marc, me too. Ever since it became a Federal Holiday a few years ago, it’s got even better.”

Marc, after checking in on his history memory, and filing a mental note to look this up “ Well, I agree. The whole family gets together.”

Marc’s cell phone rang. “Hi Mom. Yes, I’ve been bad, but I am ok. I camped out inside the art museum. I met a cool kid. He’s one of the docents here. I’ve never met one before. He’s really a good actor. Or should I say re-enactor?”

You could hear his mom even over the hum of the air conditioning. It came on to announce the official beginning of the business day and a possible starting drabble of people going through.

You could barely hear his mom saying “Marc, you worried us to death. I’m glad you had fun. We reached the front desk and there will be a guard to escort you out. You’ve overstayed your welcome. “

Then more assertively, “Young man, get home! The guard will end your visit. Dad should be driving up any time now.”

Marc looked at George. George had that funny look when something Marc said didn’t add up right for him. But he smiled.

“You in for it now! Good job Marc. Your mom sounds a lot like mine.”

They both looked a bit worried and then sort of smiled carefully.

“Marck I’ve got to get back to my post now. It’s been nice meeting you. I guess you won’t be coming back for a time huh?

“I think my travels will be limited now.”

George turned. 

Marck noticed he’d been barefoot the whole time. 

The guard arrived. “Son, you could be in deep trouble. Lucky your parents smoothed things over with the board of the art museum.”

Marc passed by the painting. The guard pointed to it as they passed. “Son, you remind me of how those kids must have been. Full of no cares and lots of adventure. Down to every last one of the nine.” It's pretty famous now, its called "Crack the Whip"

Dad arrived. “Son, you don’t deserve any sympathy. Did you get anything out of your extended stay here?”

“Yeah, I met one of the docents. It was sort of fake but interesting.”

“Marc, check your imagination. They don’t have docents here. It’s only when the Civil War re-enactors are here to tell us about Pickett’s Charge or the Battle of Gettysburg.”

“Are you sure dad? He looked so realistic down to bare feet, suspenders, old had, and tattered pants with grass stains.”