Epiphany

I love epiphanies. I love discovering them, I love that exhilirating, all-consuming AHA! feeling you get when you have them. Even the word "epiphany" is fantastic. Go ahead and say it a couple of times. It feels good. e-PIFF-uh-knee. Just a great word.

I have had some memorable epiphanies in my life. They have run the gamut from the eternally significant (spiritually life-changing) to the mundane (learning in 8th-grade that I don't actually have to participate in stupid getting-to-know-you games--nothing will happen to you if you don't!) to those that allow me to embrace being ME (I don't like backpacking. And that's okay.).

I recently had an epiphany. It turns out that when I go to Art Museums, I am less interested in the Art and more interested in the people looking at the Art. I have known for a long-time that I am an avid people watcher, and while I have tried valiantly to appreciate any and all Art, it turns out that I am much better at appreciating People. And, that's okay.

Now, don't get me wrong, there is Art that I know and love. But, people. People. They're just so fascinating. While I was appreciating the Art at The Art Institute of Chicago recently, I found myself in a room with several works by Monet. I like Monet because a) I can recognize his work, 2) it really is stunningly beautiful, and d) I like impressionism because it seems uppercrust artistic, but even I can enjoy it. But, I digress. As I wandered the room appreciating the Art, I noticed a man studying Water Lilies.

And thus began the People watching.

He looked to be in his seventies or eighties.

He was alone.

He wandered from painting to painting, apparently unattached to anyone.

And he was carrying a purse.

Why?

I kept him in sight for several rooms because I was dying to know whether or not the purse he carried belonged to someone or if he was unaware that most men don't sport girly leather purses? Had he decided, in his older years, that he didn't care what the rest of the world thought--he would carry a purse if he wanted to? Was he being chivalrous by carrying the heavy bag for a wife that didn't seem to be around?

I had so many questions. I eventually lost sight of him and was left to wonder about my purse carrying man-friend.

But, no. Two hours later, three floors later, and a whole lot of Art and People later, I spotted him again. Ah, there we go.

Although this picture doesn't adequately depict it, their interaction did suggest they were husband and wife. As they silently moseyed from one room to the next, it was evident they were both comfortable and at ease in their respective going-to-the-art-museum roles. He, unashamedly carrying her purse, she walking, standing, staring, studying. Just after I snapped this picture, they walked out of the room arm in arm, clearly content in who they were as individuals and as a couple.

And, as more of a People appreciating person at an Art museum than an Art appreciating person, I, too, am comfortable and at ease in my going-to-the-art-museum role.