Eye Level

An interesting discussion about height and the mid-point of where to hang art. In the main gallery, we used to use 60 inches, but now we center everything at 57 inches. Charlotte was arguing (too strong a word) that the new horizontal signage, down the hallway from the front entry, was too high, which it is, because of a Fire Alarm panel set in that wall. I didn't say anything, because I don't know her well enough yet, but it seemed to me, that her argument was incorrect, because signage, by it's very nature, requires that you look up. It's signage, you look up. Tilting your head pays homage to where you are. Everywhere, it's a universal. I go off (in my head), for a while, on the various situations to which the phrase eye level might apply. It's an interesting phrase. And that time thing I was talking about... right now it's just after two in the morning... I awoke because my mouth was dry. Remembered I had crashed early, but was pretty sure I'd sent a paragraph. Easy enough to check, I just have to look at Mail Waiting To Be Sent, which is my holding area, if I'd had some thoughts, the night before. Listen, I hit an all-time high today: C and I were doing something, hovering, not talking, then she said that a lot of other museum people, from throughout the state were coming down for the opening. It's a big deal, for people who pay attention to that aspect of things, the local art scene; and would I docent them through the Carters. I told her that of course I would. Not much left to do for the opening, M and C hang a couple of pictures in other parts of the museum, I haul stuff to the basement, then clean the back hall, mop that and the bathrooms. After lunch M and C's friends started arriving, and I ended up doing two tours through the Carters. For the first one Sara, and M and C strung along. Sara knew Clarence, for god's sake, he stayed at their house, so I was a little nervous, until I got into my rhythm. These were mostly museum professionals, and they applauded my presentation. My bosses were all beaming. One of the women, Clair, I think, told me that my rhetoric and voice was a lovely thing, that she wasn't used to hearing people talk that way. Then it was the opening, and people started arriving; I had a couple of beers and mingled, some artists I knew, some gallery owners. And I would have stayed longer, but my feet hurt and I really wanted to take off my shoes. Julie-Ellen, a wonderful ceramic artist from Columbus was there, I would have talked more with her, and Dan, the head of the theater program at Ohio State, but I was burned out. TR said he'd lock up, and I left without saying good-bye to anyone. I required the ridge, that level of quiet, where mute became an option.