How to Make Sense of Art

WAIT, this is Cee’s Oddball Challenge.

“How dare you? Art is art. It’s not oddball!”

“Are you talking to me, Radio Man?”

"I make as much sense as that dog of yours."
“I make as much sense as that dog of yours.”

It was a beautiful September day outside in San Jose, though a little warm. I had a few hours to kill before Leanne Cole’s plane came in from Australia. We planned to meet up at Starbucks. I was so excited to finally meet her in person.

I stayed at the Hilton next to the McEnery Convention Center in downtown San Jose. It was less than a half mile so I walked to the Tech Museum of Innovation. but it was closed for remodeling.

Dang! It was closed for remodeling. Sounds like my house.

This old architecture does not fit what's inside. Very oddball!
This beautiful old architecture does not fit what’s inside. Very oddball!

Almost across the street near  the San Jose State University campus on 110 S. Market Street sat the San Jose Museum of Art. It cost $8.00 admission for a senior, which I thought was pretty expensive, but I love museums, so I paid and walked in.

This was weirder than the blue wall in New York that was considered art.
This was weirder than the blue wall in New York that was considered art. This guy is scratching his head, too. Very ODDBALL!

I walked over to Radio Man’s glass case and stared at him trying to convince myself that this was really an art museum. I had just passed the blue room, which was just a room with a room-sized box lit with a blue light. hmmm.

“First of all, art does not HAVE to make sense,” Radio Man instructed me.

“You just don’t want to analyze how beautiful and artistic I am. You’re a lazy aficionado,” he continued.

I looked down and shuffled my feet. I wanted to turn away, but Mom always taught me to compliment people – no matter what. I stood there staring at his shoes and duck beak hands.

“OK, ok! You are shiny. I’ll give you that!”

“I had braces as a child.”

“You need to try Invisalign. Your bite is off.”

“What do you know? Most people like my smile.”

“Looks more like a grit to me.”

“A grit? It’s a smile. Don’t I have pretty eyelashes?”

I am not usually mean to robots. What’s the use? I moved on, nodding that I liked its eyelashes.

I walked around the San Jose Museum of Art looking for something artistic. Radio Man beckoned me back.

“Did you see my dog?”

Radio man's dog.
Radio man’s dog.

I had to admit it was pretty cute. Or maybe I was just getting used to art.

Not as cute as Puppy Girl on a bad hair day, though.

Cee's OddBall

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