Museum of Art

Prologue

When the sun of May has vanquished the wet and drear of April and the flowers have ope’d their buds, when the school bells start to ring the end of students’ labor, when mothers have their deep burden acknowledged fairly with gifts and words of praise, when the heat has begun to oppress those without means to fight it, then do those with the means make grand journey whatever the distance, in company or alone, to see that which delights their eyes as well as their souls and may lead them toward salvation.

On a certain day in May, a group, diverse in its character and makeup, met near the campus of the renowned College in the town of New Paltz for a trip to far New York City, on a sojourn to the fair museum of art. The journey provided for by the art department of this school as an honour for their students who had worked so hard, as well as a show of their wealth and prestige, and as a show of what they wished the students to aspire to be. To show respect to the intent, to reap the rewards of others, to challenge the prestige of the department, and to keep the others company, many another person joined the journey. I met the group as they awaited their coach, snacking on what was available to them. After speaking with the sundry journeyers , I was made welcome and joined them in friendship.

The bus arrived and we entered, the ten and eight of us, and seated ourselves according to our station and accompaniment. Here let me tell of each of the company, of their looks and accoutrements, of their manner and style of dress, and of those with whom they traveled, for much may be said of a person by the identity of their companions.

First was an ADMINISTRATOR, a worthy man of papers who had been in many battles against the state financing board. Through three administrations he had done his best for the people of the school. He helped keep charge of the money and did a fine job. There was never an extra cent left in the running of the school. Often teachers could be seen in his office to discuss the spending and they always came out with words describing the Administrator’s honour and his parentage. He wore a suit much pressed with age, nearly worn through at the joints, and shoes that had not seen polish in years. His grey hair was arranged artfully to cover the place where his head showed through it. His body showed the benefits of his position, for he had a girth to rival that of the Buddha. To his companion he was harsh with his words, but with others his words were honey'd. All he did was likewise over-sweet to those he did not know, but to his companion he showed none of this courtesy.

With him was his SECRETARY; a youth not long out of school. In his duty to his employer he did all that was proper, and it came to my thoughts that it was this man and not the other who did the work at the Administrator's office. His dress was as follows: a shirt that closed with buttons at the front, of these buttons the first two were opened. He wore jeans, but they were new and pressed, although they may have been of a size too small for him. His hair was blond and over long for one of his position, but it was arranged well on his head. His cheeks were rosy, as if he had used some kind of paint on them. He laughed and had much converse with the other passengers, but to his companion and superior he was close and quiet. The looks that passed between the pair said that this was the man in charge, whatever their positions might have been. It was he that carried the bags of both. In all that he did with the group he was pleasant.

Near them sat a TEACHER. He was a good man of books and had studied art in every country on the continent. For himself, he said that he preferred study to practice, and that his trade was the appreciation of art rather than the creation of it, but his hand trembled around his bagel, so perhaps it was not preference but necessity that kept him from craft. His clothes were in a manner more casual than the Administrator, even to the care he took of them, for they had not seen an iron from the day of their making, or I am no judge. The jacket had patches on the elbows in the manner of professors all over, but these patches seemed to me to be there of need rather than style. His hair was overlong but not out of desire, and his chin had not met a razor in longer than a day, and neither hair nor chin nor the rest of him had seen a shower in that same amount of time. His manner was that of many another in the morning after rest. He swore at the daylight and wished to be back in his bed. However, as I heard him say, he had given orders to a class to attend the trip and felt that he could not stay away because of this.

His traveling companion was a CRAFTSMAN who taught the upcoming professionals of her field. She had assigned the trip to her class as well, and was willing to join her companion on the journey, though her manner was less distressed than that of the Teacher at the necessity of the journey start. Her reddish hair was piled atop her head with many pins of her own design which sparkled in the light to bring attention to her wherever she was. Her scent was that of roses, and had been liberally spread. She dressed neatly, although it looked as though there was not enough fabric when her clothes were sewn. She managed despite this lack very well, and laughed at the discomfort of the Teacher. Indeed, she was amused at the discomfort of all who disliked the hour of our departure. Her manner was ever optimistic. Whatever was said she would find something to laugh at. Some found this offensive; even to her companion there were those who thought her mocking. Beyond that all agreed that her manners were impeccable, indeed there were none who would say that she could not be brought even to a palace, and with this she was pleased.

At the other end of the bus was a STUDENT, a senior of good report. She was considered among her peers to be the greatest in many abilities, and was one whose attentions were much sought after. She dressed casually in clothes that were still well chosen and kept and fitted the style of her age perfectly. Her skirt was tight and dark, and as the weather was warm her shirt was small and showed her stomach to great advantage. Her ears and wrists were full of gold, and so she seemed the sun itself when the light was on her. It was easily seen why all sought to join her friends and those who were not allowed in her presence were much upset by this lack. In manner, she was fair and pleasant to her friends and to those she found worthy. To others she was silent, never admitting for an instant that she noted their presence, and by this example followed her companions. Thus, she kept her group limited in numbers and in loyalty to only herself, as each group should only have one leader. As to the journey, she made herself heard as to her opinion of those who would force what should be a spiritual journey on others. Not for her own benefit, she was swift to add, but for those of her followers who were unwilling to join the journey and would suffer were they not to. In this manner she ever defended her followers.

She brought with her the largest following, having three other female students of similar age, temperament, and dress with her. As well, she had two males to whom she paid much close attention, and who caused loud commotion in fights for this precious commodity. One of the girls had occasion to look distraught at this fighting, and attempted to keep one of the boys from the fray, but in this she was not successful and spent the time afterward silent, sitting away from the light that was the Student.

Seated near the Teacher was an ART STUDENT. He was a quiet lad in his first year at the college and much looked up to the staff of the school. He was dressed neatly, his shirt full buttoned and his pants neatly pressed. His dark hair was brushed back and cut short to keep it out of the way. He spoke in glowing terms of the Museum and of what could be seen there, but only to his companion. With others he was shy, casting his eyes down and showing all meekness that was proper for an underclassman and a student.

His companion was his FRIEND, likewise a quiet person. She wore a skirt and her blouse was neat and her shoes were in a proper style. Her hair was pale and was pulled away from her face to be in a stream down her back. She must not have been older than the Art Student, for she had the same deference to the others in the bus as he did, and was even quieter in many situations. She had no reasons she gave for going a-journey to New York City, save to keep the Art Student company and see the wonders at the Museum of which he spoke.

Toward the back, near the Student, was a DORM RESIDENT. She was small and wore what looked like the first things out of her drawers. Her clothing was wrinkled besides, and in places was torn. She was excited about the trip, and let all know of it. For herself, she knew much of the area around the museum and kept expounding on the bargains that could be gained by shopping in that district. This was the purpose of the large bag she carried with her. In manner, she was intolerant of the Student and her following, but said nothing to antagonize them. To the adults of the group, she was respectful, but laughed when they turned. Her companion called her Fran.

This companion was her ROOMMATE. This girl dressed with more precision than the Resident, but still drew stares from the Student, for the colour of her clothes in weather that was warm to the point of being hot was black, although still loose. She was, if possible, less tolerant in her relation with the Student, and went out of her way on occasion to compliment this girl’s prowess with her male friends. This brought laugher from the Resident and glares from the Students and sighs from the adults sitting at the front of the bus. With others she showed more allowance than the Resident, and was quiet and respectful to all adults. The pair sat closely and spoke continually of the amount of money they had saved for the journey and what they were to use it for, though I noted that the Resident was considerably more vocal than the Roommate and would betimes cut off the latter's speech for her own commentary.

There was an APARTMENT DWELLER on one side, sitting alone. He was dressed well in costly clothes; pants of good material that was perhaps a size tight, a shirt that looked to be of silk and was partially open. He looked as though he had just had his hair cut, and his clothes were all new. He had a bright eye, and strong limbs, his smile almost constant. With everyone he was pleasant, although he liked the girls better than the boys, he always had a pleasant word for them. With the other men he would talk and laugh, but with the women he was softer, so they had to lean close to hear his words, whereupon he would speak softer again, until there was barely a space between them. He was glad of the trip, he said. He had spent time with four girls, all of whom had forsaken him, and wished to find a fifth to spend his time with. He thought that a girl at the Museum would be worth his time, though he would not have much time with her. This did not seem to trouble him and he said that a short time was all he needed with anyone.

To the other side was an ARTIST of some little skill. I heard him boast that he knew the work of all of the old masters to the very brushwork. His clothes were dark and looked like those artists are thought to wear. They had many pockets which held a variety of materials from brushes to pencils which were the Artist’s tools. These, he said were to note the styles of the exhibits for later study. He was a young man, perhaps still a student of the school although he looked a bit old for that. He claimed, however to have use of the school’s equipment, so he must have been in its tutelage. He was loud in his boasting over his accomplishments and recommendations. Indeed, it was hard to hush him once he began. Aside from that, his manner was pleasant. He was a good companion.

With him had come a CRITIC. This man had more time under his belt than his companion. He was less boisterous as well, keeping quiet and watching the others on the trip with an eye at no variance with his occupation. He was a large man, round and tall both, and his eye glittered with intelligence though he added but little to the talk. His clothes likewise caused no comment, dark and conservative, of good cut and make, or so it seemed. I heard the Artist say that the clothes were well beyond the means of the Critic, and the Critic just smiled at him. With others, he kept his own counsel, allowing none to know what he thought. His place in the bus caused my head to fill with wonder, for I had not known that there were any critics in the school. In this matter I was obviously in error, as the Critic was obviously there.

Last among the group was myself, and that is all of the wayfarers on that journey from New Paltz to New York City and the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The bus had arrived, as I have said, and the journeyers sat in the manner I have described; the Administrator and his Secretary in the front with the Teacher and Craftsman, the Art Student and his Friend not far behind them, the Artist and Critic close beside them, the Apartment Dweller squarely in the middle, the Resident and her Roommate closer the back, and the Student and her entourage at the back. Myself, I was near the middle. The Driver of this bus was a good man who made his living through trafficking people to their destinations. He knew the roads well and said to us as we settled, “The roads at this time of the day are much beset with traffic. With nothing to do, we will surely go mad of boredom before we arrive at our worthy destination.” He then proposed a competition to make the time pass more swiftly. We would all tell stories, and the greatest storyteller, as decided by this same driver, would receive free drinks from all on our return. This was agreed by all, who said that it would be a worthy expense to keep their minds. The roommate asked what parameters would be put on the stories, obviously thinking of some already, and the Teacher said that he thought we were all mature enough to appreciate anything she would care to tell.

Here is the chronicle of what these stories were, on that day in May on the journey to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I have written them verbatim as I have remembered them, even to the interruptions of others. If there be any mistake in them it is the fault therefore of my only human memory, and not of the storytellers who were all of a calibre to entertain any club one would care to enter. If these stories offend, leave the blame not on me, for I am simply recording what was said on that bus.

“And now,” the Driver said to the Administrator, “As you are a worthy man of authority, I pray you grace us with the first tale.”

And thus the contest began.