Wall mural by the current exhibitions gallery.
Sargent painting which bore a familial resemblance I wasn't given time to contemplate. Big-nostriled heavy-lidded perpetually-chilly English heritage in action.
Ooer.
Phwawr.
Koi pond in the courtyard.
"Take a picture of me, Gavin."
Grandmother egging child, "Put your hands in before your mother stops us."
Wooden horse RUN AWAY.
The only place they could run without me squawking and flapping after them.
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The Honolulu Museum of Art has a Rodin exhibition running through January, and free family days once a month, so today I crammed the offspring into the car and off we went.
Rodin makes me vibrate like a strummed guitar. The stressed, yipping security guards were hurrying around and skidding on the polished floor, slapping hands off of all the luscious bronze bottoms. The kids had us whipping through the galleries at a hard trot, but I stood and quivered on point in front of the misbehaving naiads and a John Singer Sargent portrait before being hauled along by the invisible leash. The parental cries of "DON'T TOUCH" and "WHY would you put your finger in that?!" rang through the chambers, and I felt happy because they weren't about my kids.
It was pretty wonderful.
Next time I'm going by myself, though.
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