Dear Museum Man:
Here's my beef I have with you.
Number one, you are never smiling. My question is why? You get to stare at gorgeous pieces of art all day, that sounds like a great time to me. You are even provided a chair to sit on if your legs get tired, life can't get better.
Secondly, you and your co-workers all wear the same black-on-black outfits and stick out like sore thumbs against the museums white walls. Why can't you get all jazzed up and match the intellect and jaw dropping art that you stand by all day? Don't pretend like I didn't see those Italian leather dress shoes you had on along with that tailored blazer. Share your wardrobe with Joan Miró and Juan Gris, because Mr. Museum Man, you've got style for a gallery assistant.
Lastly and most importantly, why must you yell at me from across the room when I am taking a picture while others are interpreting a piece in silence? There was no sign to say I couldn't take a photo, there were actually signs that said I could take a photo as long as it didn't use a flash - and I made sure I turned my flash off.
On a happier note, I am pleased you allowed me to stay in the museum and look at the remaining Pablo Picasso paintings, including the one and only Guernica. If you had not allowed me, and the other student who took a photo as well, to stay we would have been greatly disappointed due to the fact that I could stare at this painting for hours.
Enough about my "beef" with the gallery assistant. For those who know me you will know I really don't mind that much, he was just doing his job. I am actually slightly jealous of his occupation.
The other night one of the guys in the group asked us all this question: What job would you have if you knew you couldn't mess up? I immediately said art restoration.
My dad would be proud with this answer, my mom would jerk her head back, crinkle her nose and say, huh? But it is the honest to goodness truth.
You would have the talent to restore pieces of work that have been seen by thousands, if not millions of people depending upon the painting. You recreate the brush strokes someone put on a canvas years ago, you remove surface deposits via cotton swab and it makes you wonder how vibrant the color was when it was first created. Just think if you had the task of restoring Diego Velázquez's Las Meninas it would be time consuming and make your hands shake, but the satisfaction of fixing a splotch of color and no one being able to notice, how awesome and rewarding would that be? I would love to say one day, "Hey you know La Infanta Margarita in that one really famous painting Las Meninas? Yeah, I made her white dress a little more white." OK, maybe I wouldn't tell people like that but you get my drift.
Personally, I think Mr. Museum Man wants this job too. After all, he does need to fund his wardrobe.
In summary, I thank you dear Museum Man, you made me recount my trip to Museo Reina Sofía countless times, engrained into my memory that I should not take photos in a gallery - regardless of the signs - and helped me dream a little dream about having a job in art restoration.