Après-midi de la fondling…….or, Paris @ 1400
I chose a Wednesday to see the Charles VI exhibit.
How crowded could it be?
As I squeezed in between bodies to see the Cité des Dames—
Christine de Pizan’s words came back to me.
My heart was pounding, my knees threatening to buckle
And then I noticed their reflection in the glass—
A young, handsome couple
He was squeezing her ass and she was oozing hormonal contentment.
And they were completely blocking the construction of the city of Virtue!
When I turned to the Grandes Chroniques de France, they were fondling in
Front of the greatest royal story ever told!
I was incensed!
They could have fondled in front of Mona or the
Venus de Milo—-why “Paris around the year 1400?”
Did this mean I was an intellectual snob after all?
Cringing to hear the blue-haired ladies discuss the azure robes the Virgin wore in a page by the Boucicault Master?
Being elbowed by the effigies and denied any views of the enamels,
I sank to the marble bench in front of the Apocalypse tapestries and
Tried to put this in perspective. It was not apocalyptic in import.
I just never cast myself as a misanthrope before—and now I had become a
Full-fledged member of the club.
In many ways I know nothing more than to squeeze the ass of art!
So why do I nod knowingly at the priceless parchment under glass?