IF YOU VISIT ENOUGH MUSEUMS IN YOUR LIFETIME, you may decide that at least half of them, seen as arranged space, are more interesting than their contents. It may be country-cousin to that time in your childhood when your parents gave you a big box with a riding toy inside it, and, after a few minutes of excitement, you began sitting in the box. The object inside was, after all, only a fire engine, but a box could be a mine shaft, a Fortress of Solitude, the dining car on the Orient Express, and so on.

And so with museums.

I truly do try to give lip service to the curated exhibits and loaned shows that cram the floors and line the walls of the various museums I visit. After all, I am, harumph and ahem, a Patron Of The Arts, especially if said museums are…

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  1. Larry:

    Just returned from vacation to find that you had generously decided to reblog one of my posts at I truly appreciate this, and I will now start monitoring your own regular postings. Good luck to you in everything and thanks again for the kind consideration.

    Michael Perkins, Author/Photographer, THE NORMAL EYE

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