Busy Day

Started early. The art shippers, who were supposed to be here last Tuesday but were caught in an upper mid-west snowstorm and rescheduled for tomorrow, called this morning and were only fifteen miles away. They arrive, D arrives just after them, and we load the three crates of Alice. That show heading for St. Louis. We get coffee and scones, get back to the museum and hang the few remaining pieces. Alter a few things. I'm always pleasantly surprised at how well D and I do this work. We don't even have to talk about it while we're working, often doing a kind of stand up comedy to amuse ourselves and anyone who might be listening. After lunch D and Sara light the show in short order, mostly because the last show, Alice, was also a wall show and none of the lights had to be changed. The next show, which will be at least half 3D will need spots instead of floods and require much more time. Lucky break. They have the show lit in short order. Tomorrow I can clean the gallery, take elevator loads of tools and pads (when we stack wall pieces around the space, each one has to be on a pad) and painting supplies to the basement. Then I can start making the labels. A huge amount of labels, several days work, but I'll have the time. Then croquettes, then the opening next Friday. I made two small mistakes hanging this show, both easily corrected, but it's interesting that both of them were because of mindless chatter at the reception desk. When D and I hang a show together, he calls out numbers, I do the math, call out the answers, and he makes marks on the walls. Doing it all myself, I was constantly holding numbers in my head, and the mindless chatter drove me to distraction. Kenny, who catalogs our photograph collection (extensive, many thousands of prints and negatives) has been culling images for a show next summer about river boats, was showing Sara some of the pictures in the common room upstairs. I stopped to look. Mail Packets and Show Boats, side-wheelers and stern-wheelers. The floating opera. Should be an interesting and popular exhibit. I docent a couple of people through the glass show. Sara is a little surprised that the Modernist show is hung and lit a week early, I have to remind her that she told me months ago that it needed to be, and D compliments me on a job well done. It looks great, stunning, actually. A good preparator is a lot like a stage manager in theater: if they do their job well, you hardly notice what they've done. It's all about the show. I love what I do here, behind the scenes. That Sara and D are pleased is all that really matters to me; that, and the fact that I get paid for doing something I enjoy. I go over to the pub, after I lock up, for an Irish with a Murphy's back, and John has burned me a disc of a fairly esoteric Ry Cooder album. Life in the outside lane, where you consciously slow your heart-beat, wear white cotton gloves, and consider every move. I better go. I have to be there tomorrow, then sweet release. We'll talk later.