One sunny day at the MET I stood in front of this painting contemplating it for many minutes. It was hanging right there in the 20th century section where all the light comes flooding through the angled windows as if to disinfect any gratuitous linseed oil. I am a snob and a selfish person only when it comes to two spatial areas that happen to be free: in front of a painting displayed in a museum and a bar stool. I don't like sharing that space in either case.
A seasoned lady, one of those well-to-do Manhattanite types, sidled up next to me. The corner of my eye dazzled slightly at the twinkling beams dancing off her heaps of jewelry. I was annoyed by it. She began to think out loud so I assumed her observations were meant for me. She seemed to call up all her own powers of benign snobbery when, nose in air, she proclaimed it was a shame the artist didn't create a certain 'closure' to the painting by adding some cow dung underneath the cow.
I very gently pointed to the left of the painting and reminded her of the scientist holding the mop. We did all this without eye contact. She let out an expensive sounding laugh. I finally turned and smiled at her in that satisfied way we do when we think we're witty and this made me hate myself. I didn't want to smile the way she spoke. This was a funny thing as I felt very shabby that day but it subsided after that. However, I do remember wishing laughter paid out.
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