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Art of Imperfection
By Daniel Snyder
I never cared about art until that night. At the time, I took what I thought was a crappy job. Maybe I felt guilty because of what happened. I don’t know, but something you won’t believe changed all that. Sometimes, I still don’t believe it myself.
I could never understand what was so fascinating about a motionless picture. Lazy movies. Art. Amelia, my wife, never thought so, and for a moment, that’s why various kinds of artwork inspired me. She was always in galleries, excited to tell me about the new paintings she saw whenever she went. The way she talked about them was more interesting than the pieces themselves. She was relentless in her pursuit of getting me to see them with her.
“You’ve gotta see this one, Arty, I think you’ll love it,” she said. She gave me those puppy-dog eyes and crinkled her nose. It made it damn near impossible to say no.
There was this one piece the museum hadn’t revealed yet, but she got special permission to show it to me when we went next. We never did. If I had one more day with her, we would have spent it together doing that.
Anyway, enough with the sob story. This is the night when I first believed in magic. Time for work. In my navy blue uniform, complete with a name tag, flashlight, and keys, I headed to the art gallery for my night shift. My only…
