My Sun and Shadow Salon

When I grow up, I want to curate.

Doesn't matter what. I'll curate music shows, maybe a few gallery shows, you name it. I just like the idea of being in charge of deciding what's interesting.

So you can see it was only logical for me to end up at the Anderson Gallery for the curator's talk about the outstanding new sculpture show.

Michael Jones McKean, sculptor and curator for "you, you sun and shadow" was giving an overview of the exhibit by showing images of the pieces as we sat in one of the galleries.

In a perfect world, we would have followed him around the galleries as he talked about the actual pieces, but there were far too many people there tonight for that to be possible.

Revert to Plan B.

Instead we sat and stood to hear his thoughts on the challenges of assembling a collection of objects in this space in this building in this city.

Looking every inch the intense young sculptor that he is, McKean talked about the ego blow of getting told no when he requested a certain piece for the show.

He told of the weekly meetings over the course of a year with the Anderson director to keep her abreast of his curating progress.

Or, as he put it, "We'd have these rap sessions and we'd just be freewheeling."

That's the kind of enthusiasm I want going into the curatorial process.

During the Q & A period, someone asked about the correlation between McKean's own work and the pieces he chose for the show. Did it represent something he had not yet achieved?

"There's some jam inside the works that I want to taste," he explained with a metaphor only an artist could deliver so quickly and sincerely.

Walking around the show afterwards was a fascinating look at the state of contemporary sculpture.

Delicate river twigs were woven into a small geodesic dome.

The figure of a  man levitates off the floor, feet in the air to greet visitors to the gallery (per the artist's instructions).

Pedestals appear to be recognizably square only to have completely unexpected sides when viewed all the way around.

A mix tape is made out of the dust of every bone in the body.

That, I would venture, is a collection of incredibly interesting stuff. That's why I want to curate.

While looking at the show, a guy I'd met six months ago came up and re-introduced himself.

He made my night by telling me that he's been reading my blog ever since. In fact, he said it had inspired him to get out more and do some of the stuff I'm always writing about.

Even better, he said I sound like I'm always having fun. How's that for the most random compliment a blogger could hope for?

With that kind of good will floating my boat, we bid farewell to art and hello to Lemaire's crowded bar.

By the time we made one loop around the bar two stools had opened up and we made them our own.

With a minute to spare, we scored a bottle of one of the Discovery wines, the Renoto Fuedo Maccari Nero D'Alva/Syrah blend full of dark fruit and tannins and we were set.

In the course of drinking the bottle, we discussed the age-old "but is it art?" question. There were some pieces in the show that challenged my companion's concept of art, making for some lively conversation.

At one point, two girls walked by teetering on impossibly high heels and I said something about it to my trusty sidekick.

Moments later, a guy came up to us and commented about how the girls couldn't even walk in those things. I offered up proof that, with enough experience, you can walk in anything.

Likewise, with enough experience (and I may be approaching that point), I figure I could curate any number of things.

People would be my first choice. I'd like to assemble a salon of interesting types to join me for conversation. shared witticisms and storytelling.

And you know why? Because there'd be jam inside of each person and I'd want to taste it.

See? I'm already talking like a curator.