Elle & Tom

“What’s the point?” I asked Tom, Elle’s husband, as we stood in a building I admire much more than the art it contains. I often find myself examining the floor, the angle of the staircases, the art deco ornamentation as I find myself befuddled by the exhibits.

“What?” He asked, looking up from his perusal of the explanation and artwork.

“So he reproduced a box. Made it look just like the real shipping box for apple juice. So why not just put the real box on a pedestal and save himself a lot of time? I don’t get it.”

“Hmmm. Well, maybe he was trying to comment on how it’s easy to get lost in a society with consumerism as rampant as ours. How art and originality got lost as more things get mass produced. Or maybe this is more permanent. It’s wooden, not cardboard, so you can keep it forever as kind of a nostalgic idea. I’m not sure. It can mean whatever you want.”

“Huh.” I said in response, moving on to look at the gigantic puffy French fries covered with ketchup made of some shiny fabric. I frowned at it too, then shook my head and wandered toward photos. I like photographs. And art that’s really big – paintings that cover entire walls. Stuff that’s pretty. Or at least comprehensible to my non-artistic mind.

Elle and Tom are artists. Stared at the work, noting technique and extrapolating on ideas they could apply to their own projects. Critiquing the pieces, peering in between the four edges of frames. Discussing, mostly between themselves since my contributions tended toward, “I like that color. Brown is nice.” Which apparently isn’t so riveting and earned me fond smiles until I wandered away to find something that interested me.

There was one portion of the exhibit in particular that I found very compelling, but I’m not sure why. Elle was disturbed by it – and it was a bit creepy – but I resisted leaving that section. It was making me think about…something. I’m just not sure what. I’ll have to read the brochure I procured and think on it later.

We did more touristy things – talked and took pictures and read signs. Then we wandered downtown, being far more adventurous than I’d ever been. We strode down side streets and into strange, little shops.

“Do you need glow in the dark office zombie figures?” Tom asked Elle and she shook her head, staring at a costume that contained a g-string, chaps and faux-leather bra. I wrinkled my nose over the incense selection – it gives me a headache – and stared at the plethora of rubber masks that graced an upper shelf.

“This place is strange.” I murmured, and Elle nodded in firm agreement.

“Tom?” She called. “Are you ready?” He emerged around a corner holding a candle holder shaped like a skull. Before he could speak, she told him to put it away. Grinning, he did so and we wandered outside again.

They found a few souvenirs from random shops and I found that as much as I loved them, I was slightly tense. Trying to determine if they were bored or having a good time. Did they think the long drive was worth it? Should we listen to more music? See more places? What was I going to feed them next? How were we doing on time?

In the late afternoon, I had scheduled an experiment that required their participation. I was going to tuck them in a large machine and look at their brains. They had reacted to my timid request with unmitigated enthusiasm and had already planned what they would do with the results I promised to burn on CDs for each of them. I worked after they went to bed last night and again this morning to finish said CDs and am pleased with the results.

Tom went first and I told Elle she could scoot up next to me as I worked on the computer. She had been watching from a safe distance.

“Will I be able to see as we go along?”

“Of course.” I answered absently, clicking and changing and making notes on timing. The first images arrived and I clicked through quickly – checking angles and general quality.

“Katie.” She breathed. “That’s his brain. That’s just so cool! I can’t believe this is what you do!”

I paused from more squinting at the screen as I clicked and arranged to smile at her. “It is cool.” I decided. “But I’m glad you think so too.”

Tom loved the sounds. In addition to making crafts that they sell at shows and in a gallery, they do experimental music, poetry readings, photography. Hell, Tom wrote and helped make a monster movie. I’m frankly as lost as to understanding their lifestyle and thought processes as they are mine.

Elle asked questions as we went along. The experiment went very well, though I made some mistakes that I wanted to fix when I took her in the room.

“I don’t know what that word is.” She said once. “Say it again.” I obliged and she repeated it. “Now tell me what it means.” She demanded seriously. I went into an explanation, struggling to use simple words and general concepts.

“I’m getting worse at this.” I lamented as we drove home later last night, trying to explain another professional concept. “I rarely talk to people without doctorates in general down here. So when trying to explain my work, I’m always talking to people who know more than I do. I’m losing the ability to have a real conversation with a normal person.”

“Just about your work.” Elle soothed. “You talk about other things just fine, sweetheart.”

I’ve loved having them here. I so badly wanted them to have a good time, and they were full of praise for the trip. My house is gorgeous. My cat is so pretty. Chienne is much calmer than she used to be, though still very excited and a bit bigger than she thinks she is.

“Your bed is like a soft cloud of wonderfulness!” Elle said yesterday morning after she emerged from the master suite. “The blankets are so soft and the bed is so big. We listened to waves on your sound machine and that’s all we heard! No sirens! No drunk people heading home from the bars!” My city is wonderful. There’s so much to see and do! The people are so friendly. The art was beautiful – just what they wanted to see.

“It’s so easy to take pictures.” Elle marveled as she paused to snap a photo of some signs on the street. “Nobody stares at you like you’re in the way or doing something lame. It’s just so nice!” My research is fascinating, though far too smart for them to understand. Dinner was fantastic. Everything was perfect, they said, so I’m pleased.

I love them both. Very much, actually. And though Elle and I have both changed as we grew up, we identify with each other much as we did in college. We don’t often understand. I’d listen to poetry patiently, then eagerly ask for interpretation. She’d ask if I was listening when she talked because I started to mutter about physics problems as I progressed through a homework set.

“You’re an artist!” I said several times yesterday because that’s just so neat.

She cocked her head at me after I said it once again. “I keep brushing that off because I know people who are so much better than we are. Who produce so much more stuff and set much higher prices. But I guess we are artists. We love it and we do it and we’re moderately successful at it. So, yes.” Then she grinned and shrugged and I felt a swell of affection for my quirky friend.

“You’re just so smart, Katie. The smartest of all my friends. The one with the coolest job. You help people and can do this crazy thing that makes pictures of my brain! I just think you’re amazing.” She said as afternoon faded into evening and I was trying to wrap things up before we headed to dinner.

I paused, considered all the people I know who work harder, do more, know more. But I’m the only person she knows who does this – who participates in this particular world. And she likewise provides some perspective for me into those who can sit and stare at paintings, looking for something I just don’t see. Who create because they’re compelled to do so.

“Here’s to Katie.” Tom said last night, raising his glass as they sat across from me at dinner. “For letting us visit, sharing her home and being a wonderful host.”

I don’t do toasts in the moment. I require time to think and prepare and write. What I think I would say if given another opportunity is something like this.

“To friends. For allowing you to peek into other worlds, regardless of how confusing they might be. For loving you whether they understand your life very much or not. For driving nearly 20 hours to visit for a little over 40. For being bright and funny and really very wonderful, and for reminding me both of who I was and to appreciate who I am.”