Craic On

I did something rather wonderful this morning. It involved Grand Masters and there was not a golf ball in sight. Golf is a whole other story: I once went for a golf lesson. I have no idea how blind people make a go of this inscrutable game. I found it impossible to line the iron up with the ball and spent a frustrating hour beating the hell out of thin air and terrifying my coach. After the lesson ended and he mopped his brow, he told me not to come back. These Grand Masters would not have been seen dead, let alone alive, in the coveted Masters Green Jacket. It’s a truism of just about all paintings in Charles 1 collection that green doesn’t make much of an appearance. It was an unstable color. You couldn’t just drop a blob of blue into a blob of yellow and hope for the best. Reds predominate. I gave up going to art galleries a long time ago. It’s not that it’s impossible to appreciate the beauty and sentiment of great art. Good magnification can make it worthwhile, but it’s the crowds that do it.