The Docent and the Drunken Mariner

I was a docent at the local Museum of Art and History. He was an interested art enthusiast …or maybe he was just lost.

The wiry gentleman, dressed in dark blue trousers, dark blue turtle neck sweater, and a mariner’s cap, walked uneasily into the empty gallery where I was working as docent, on a quiet Sunday afternoon. He didn’t look too steady on his feet and I made mental note to myself as to how I might manage the situation if he were to become a “problem,” as he was clearly intoxicated – and I was alone.

He tilted a bit on his feet, tipped his cap to me, and then turned into the main gallery. We had a display that week of artworks that consisted of a number of giant canvases on each one of which the artist had painted no more than two or three huge stripes in pastel colors– nothing else! In my opinion, the entire show was ludicrous! I had seen the artist’s work decorating the walls of the Administration building of our local college and was astounded to learn that they had been purchased at great expense. The artist was a teacher in the Art Department. I suppose that being an art teacher gives one the automatic position of “credible artist” - One more proof of my perception that position often holds more weight than talent in today’s art world.

My opinion of this exhibit was clearly established and I wished to give no further information on the subject to visitors to the Museum. If I had spoken, I would have told them that the art was junk and the society who thought it was worthy enough for a major exhibit, downright stupid. The job of a docent is to educate the visitors concerning the displays, not to tell them that coming in would be a waste of their time.

And so I observed from afar as the gentleman in the mariner’s cap made his way through the gallery, stopping before each painting, swaying to keep his balance, rubbing his chin in thought, and shaking his head as if in disbelief. He spent a half hour in the small gallery, giving each work his full, lengthy, albeit “fuzzy,” attention.

His tour finished, he came out and walked towards me. I waited to see what he would do. He stopped in front of me, his body waving like a sapling in the wind, pushed his cap back on his head, looked straight into my eyes with an expression of awe, and said: “PROFOUND!” Then he turned and made his way out the door.

I leave you to your own conclusions.