Bonding Over Bad Art (I)
To get over his breakup blues, Tom Sloane decided that he needed to indulge in what he did best.
Snark the hell out of something to validate his worth as a human being.
So he put in the work (flipped a coin) and decided to head to the generically named, County Museum of Modern Art.
With his mother up to her eyeballs in this sort of thing, one did pick up on a few things.
Like how the politics of the art world worked.
"And the worst paintings in the collection of the regular art museum are dumped here and labeled 'modern' to get saps in the door." Tom noted as he became one of them.
But he wasn't here to fall for the trick.
Rather, to make fun of it.
He was barely in the main foyer when he spotted his first target, a picture of a man taking a picture of a picture over and over.
"How original." Tom said to him with contempt and a hint of smugness.
He didn't have to take more than two steps before seeing something that jogged his memory.
"A painting of a clown crying," Tom mused, "I'm pretty sure I saw this at 'art in the park', and pretty much anywhere that sells paintings."
It was more of the same the further he went, and if he hadn't spent a good chunk of his life in places with actual art, Tom would be despairing the fate of the medium by the time he saw the third abomination.
After walking through a so-called 'found art' piece, in the form of a train box car, Tom felt ready for a little break and found a bench to sit on.
About a minute into his break, a figure came into his line of sight.
A handsome older woman in a flowing purple dress, her red hair braided down her back, a long blue shell necklace hung down the front, and a pair of matching blue hoop earrings swayed as she moved.
For some reason she was taking pictures of every single piece of art in the room with a professional camera, and snickering like she was pulling a prank.
Tom raised an eyebrow and just watched until she reached the box car and decided to introduce himself.
To be polite he waited until she was done taking her pictures of the lazy man's excuse for art.
Tom used all of his charm and wit to make a good first impression.
"Hey."
The woman turned, looking slightly curious.
"Hello," she replied politely to the boy, "Do you need something?"
Tom gave her a sly half-grin, "Just curious as to your enthusiasm about this place."
She snickered again, "I'm not enthusiastic about this place. Rather about my project."
"Project?"
The woman, Tom discovered, had a radiant smile, "I'm creating a mixed media piece of my own, using pictures of bad art that I'll splash with cow's blood that I snagged from the local butcher."
"Cool," Tom answered honestly, "But how are you going to keep it fresh?"
She shrugged, "if Tracey Emin can get away with putting her bed and stained knickers in galleries, I think I can get away with necrotic cow's blood."
Tom laughed, "Too true, too true, but the mention of dead cow has made me kind of hungry. Interested in getting some food after you finish up?"
The woman laughed, "You are a bold one."
But against her better judgment, she was giving him a considering eye.
So she decided to see if she knew of him and asked, "What's your name anyway?"
The lad smiled a bit more, his sea-green eyes danced wonderfully in the light, "Tom, Tom Sloane. yours?"
"Claire Defoe." she replied politely, even while getting the funny feeling that she should know that name from somewhere.
Tom seemed surprised for a second before covering it up by asking if he could tag along.
"Why not?" Claire replied while fiddling with her camera, "Plenty of material here to work with."
"And to mock." Tom added with emphasis.
"And to mock," Claire agreed, "With love of course."
"This is going to be interesting." Tom thought as he took a step back and watched Claire size up the room before selecting a poorly executed cubist deconstruction for her own purposes.