Gallery Art

I have to crane my neck the small coterie presses, I am too short for long distance seeing walls tower over my eyes like curtains. “You have to see the hidden in the hidden” The svelte tailored nose-whisper expects me to know what he means. I do, but I am not going to nod and affirm his effete conceits besides, I am only here because of the rain. I am still trying to step back to take the image in from a far view but there are backs and back-packs, slow dripping rain hats. Spectacles are steaming up in the muggy ambience, and he is droning going to a place where flowers in a vase mark a post-revolutionary something or other. Now I can’t see it at all perhaps it is hiding in its hideaway almost in front of my face? I overhear over damp overcoats it being coaxed into something more, much more than a few blobs of color caught indoors on a rainy day.