Side note: When I go into a musuem, I turn into a professional judge. It is almost like when I am shopping. I become hyper aware of my actions, of other people actions, and what I need to do to be the coolest/bestest/super bomb/smartest/etc person in the room/exhibit. This is always a competition. Each person is judged, in my head, on categories such as dress, age, walk, which pieces they stop at, and the most important what they say to the people they are with. I come into a museum such as the sfmoma with unstoppable confidence (masked insecurity, yeah yeah, I know you know, I just wanted you to know that I know…). This holds true for some gallery openings as well, as long as I feel like I am dressed appropriately. If I am not dressed to some sort of extremely undefinable personal dress code, then all is lost. I am fucked. And I probably am having a bad time. There is no point in playing in the art museum competition (when I am dressed poorly) because there is no chance of winning. My mother always said I had to learn to pick my battles.
Above Photo by Josh Keller - http://www.joshkeller.net/