Today I met a woman who discussed art with me. She commented on the Hockney print in my office stating it reminded her of a Grandma Moses. I confessed I knew little of Moses’ style. I told her that I had bought the poster at the Metropolitan Museum of Art while attending a Hockney Exhibition, explaining that I had chosen it because I disliked it least of his available works.
She told me about an exhibit across the street at a bank building. I have forgotten the artist’s name. She spoke briefly about artists in our city not having much of a market. She remarked about the taste of our CEO who invests millions in various art forms displayed about our corporate headquarters. I thanked her for sharing her knowledge with me and she went on with her cleaning for you see she was the janitor.
As I watched her unassuming figure walk away pushing the trash cart I did not doubt that she knew art and appreciated it. I thought how much we assume about people based upon their jobs, clothes or other factors that tell us nothing about who or what they are.
Written January 8, 1990
“Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love.” Claude Monet
Her walk was possibly her most impressive attribute. There was something about her carriage that was both authoritative and sexy. She commanded attention upon entering a room with confident strides. She never resorted to tiny lady-like steps yet her movement was anything but masculine. That stride with shoulders back, head up and chest out unconsciously belied the insecurity and inferiority that she carried deep within her heart for all of her years. Her fears gave off fearsomeness and her lack of confidence made her seem aloof so few knew what was inside.
Crooked Creek by Sue Mattingly 