Determinants of Demand: Tastes
Viewing art with He should be enriching. Impractical, yes, but enjoyable. I muse this to myself while walking the block or so from my car to the art museum he chose. The fact that it's early spring makes the walk by the glass office towers and posh housing more pleasant than I'd normally find it. Standing in line and staring at statuary are my companions. Zhen and He I had expected to see, Pi I had not. The prior two wave enthusiastically for me to cut in behind them. When I get there I hear them chatting on the merits and flaws of the museum's graphic design choices. I look over at Pi, whose standing behind me and examining a sheet of colored steel that gives the optical illusion of being a house. I choose to mind the reflecting pool in front of the massive white and glass building.
I wonder if this outing was meant to be an ambush on Pi, He or Ji's part. Or it could just be providence that a polyamorous young executive, his trophy fiancé, a mutual "Gay Best Friend" and the older man-who-works-for-daddy's-company that said executive may-or-may-not be trying to seduce end up together. I'm indulging in this ridiculous thought about Wei's internal politics as our group is ushered through a revolving door. The moment we get our tickets (emblazoned with a red HIGH), Zhen pulls Pi off to a small cafe the museum runs in its atrium, prattling all the way. That leaves me and He, who has by now walked to look out a glass wall; a glass wall that of all things shows a closed court yard with large fiber glass fruits and utensils on a fiber glass napkin. Still glanceing out the window, I ask "Zhang He , is there a reason you brought both Pi and Ji?" "No, I ... Invited Ji, and Pi was there during our conversation so he came along too. Is this uncomfortable for you? We could all split up the group?" He says the last part while looking toward me, his face souring. I am still trying to understand the reason for putting such expensive statues where there is such a limited viewing angle. Zhang He is too concerned about me for his own good. My lips twist up as I answer without looking away from the window: "No. This is not unsettling for me, though it is for Pi I imagine. I've always told the boy he needs to learn more about managing his relations in business. This'll be a lesson in tact for him." I tap my fingers against the glass, still trying to understand why those blasted fruit are there.
Zhen Ji returns seeming a bit to bubbly, taping He on the shoulder and then gesturing to a bag of macaroons and little sandwiches Pi holds up and a tray of teas she holds. Of all the talents useful in the world of business, Cao Pi has truly mastered the art of keeping a stoic expression at all times. I watch as Zhen and He take a seat at a Scandinavian styled chair and table set, before they take the initative in serving four even plates. Pi stands behind me, looking over my shoulder and using the fruit as his focal point. I look at the statuary again and can just imagine him behind me, his brows furrowed. And his hand wanting to ghost over my hip. "Sima Yi, are you going to come eat with everyone else?" Pi speaks by my ear. I clear my throat but don't turn to face him. "You're blocking my way Cao Pi." Pi moves aside and then follows me to take a seat at our group's table. Zhen and He greet us cordially, gesturing to our servings of neat little pastries and cups of Sencha green. For once He and Ji are the absolute experts, explaining and discussing the pop and high cultural significance of some later works of Dali that are on traveling exhibit here. Pi and I are reduced to students, asking occasional questions as we all eat. I can tolerate not being the authority, every once in a while.
This chapter should be longer, but university dictates that I never have the time to sit down and write it all at once. So this is part one of three.