The MAG: A Hypothetical Story
By Beth Larter
Published March 4, 2018.
It’s quiet here. But it’s the comforting kind of quiet. The kind of quiet that isn’t just the absence of noise, but the presence of something deeper. A quiet you sink into. A quiet that makes time feel like it slows down just a little.
It rarely changes here. And when it does change, the change always comes as a pleasant surprise and never a catastrophe.
The Memorial Art Gallery has become one of several places in and around Rochester that simultaneously reminds me of my roots and inspires me to keep creating my own story. I come here to feel calm. I come here to be energized. I drag every friend who visits my beautiful hometown here for a tour where I enthusiastically recite tidbits of information plucked from years of reading the wall plaques.
If you were here with me, I would give you a similarly enthusiastic tour. With false nonchalance I would mention to you, maybe too many times, that little ol’ Rochester is home to not one but three of Monet’s paintings. I’d rush you upstairs to see them and then act very cool and casual about it while I watched your face for a sign that you were impressed.
If you were not sufficiently impressed by Claude Monet, I would usher you to the other side of the gallery to see the Egyptian coffins and an actual, literal mummy that I only recently discovered was not just a replica. You would be very impressed by that. If you looked closely enough you might even see the tiny mummified cat.
As we circled the top floor of the gallery, I would insist you stop to look at the painting that I am convinced looks just like a Mr. Darcy-era Collin Firth. If you didn’t see it at first, I would happily pull up a picture of Collin Firth on my phone so you could compare. You would eventually concede that there was a slight resemblance.
At the top of the stairs, we would stop, like I always do, and stare for a while at “The Printseller’s Window” which has fascinated me with its perfect details since a third grade school trip.
If you were here, I’d show you both sides of the Georgia O’Keefe that’s cleverly displayed through a hole in the wall and I would want to know which side you liked better. One room over, I would show you how big Abraham Lincoln’s head and hands were and we would wonder aloud how enormous his hats must have been.
If you were here, I would ask if you thought the woman in the painting titled “Peeling Onions” was crying from the onions or is she just sad? I would make sure you didn’t overlook e.e. cummings’ self-portrait in the next room which you would probably agree looks exactly how you would expect e.e. cummings’ self-portrait to look.
As we made our way back through the portraits I would ask you to tell me about your favorite thing in the gallery and your answer would surprise me. So we would circle back around to look at it again and this time I would see it with new eyes. And from that day on I would always think of you when I saw it. Then you would be a part of the gallery too.
This short story comes from Beth Larter, a proud Rochesterian and elementary school librarian who gets excited about words. Some of her favorite things include books, podcasts, eavesdropping, libraries, laughter, and Twitter. On her blog, she writes about faith, reading, and the beautiful complexity of being human. For more, give her a follow on Twitter!
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