escorted out of national gallery

the first transcription i ever did in college was botticelli's venetian

prince (and i bet all to hell i didnt spell that right)

anyway. I was 19, and attened a private catholic school (briarcliff university, used to be briarcliff college in sioux city iowa)

 

i was expecting the original, hanging in the national gallery in washington dc, to be huge, and it wasnt. it was only like a foot wide. the paint wasnt polished and fine like i thought it wouldbe either, it was thick like toothpaste. at the time, the only thing between

me,

all of my sweet innocent curiosity,

and the actual real life right there

in front of me original were these flimsy velvet covered ropes.

sooooo the guards came right away and they searched my backpack, asked me a

lot of questions and warned me. It wasnt until i got upstairs that i did it

again with a Leighton, and was very politely asked to come with them.

they were real nice about it.

said i could maybe come back tomorrow but that i was done today. sooo i sat

out on the capital steps with the henry miller waiting for the boys. when i

told alan he took our picture. (the one next that says "and this is what that looked like"

Done