ms. olsen

^ Art Night concert in the Chinese courtyard of the Pacific Asia Museum in Pasadena. I snapped the pic just after I finished my volunteer work as docent in one of the galleries and would have stayed longer if I weren't so hungry and needed to get home.

Last night was the seasonal Art Night in Pasadena. As a docent of the Pacific Asia Museum I volunteered to plant myself in one of the galleries and talk to patrons-at-large and answer any questions they have.

The crowd was wonderful, a great mix of ethnicities and other backgrounds - mixed race couples and families, high school and art school students, hipsters, old school patrons, art ladies, and all others spanning all ages. It was cool for me because instead of the typical cut and dry academic talk that seems to characterize many docents, I sort of 'gossiped' about the objects, brought out their humanistic traits.

I was in part inspired to talk this way by my old costume history professor, Ms. Olsen. When I was studying in the undergrad program at the Art Institute of Chicago in the late 80s, I took a couple of her courses. She was this incredible, beautiful older Austrian blonde, all 6 feet of her, with amazing facial bones, gleaming white smile, lean athletic body, and northern blue twinkly eyes. You know, the kind of eyes that knowingly look you up and down, as if saying "You need to get the fuck over your inhibitions and make mad passionate love to the world!"

This wasn't surprising of her considering she was a former costume designer for The Goodman Theater in Chicago. And when she wasn't teaching at the Art Institute (her classes were always held in the fall term) she was out on her ranch near Teton Village in Wyoming, working with her staff of sexy cowboys I bet.

Ms. Olsen was always at least several minutes late for class (which was usually scheduled from 6 to 9pm). She didn't really walk in late, instead she strode in, as if energized from a victorious battle. And she usually did it wearing her signature Tyrolean hat, full length wool bouclé knit Missoni cape on which in intarsia was rendered in its entirety the Swiss Alps (complete with snowcaps), and her customary brown leather riding boots. Enter stage right!! Half the time her excuse was: "Well, I'm sorry I'm late but you know those gay guys always make you wait, even when you just meet them for a drink!"

Ms. Olsen didn't so much lecture in class as hold court. And when she held court, it wasn't so much a somber event as it was a huddled gossip session. About what a bastard Henry VIII was to poor Ann Boleyn, say. Or how they were such bastards in 16th century Venice to pass sumptuary laws forcing Jews to wear yellow patches on their clothes. ('bastard' was one of her choice words). Ms. Olsen relished her gossip sess --- I mean, lectures.

I could only hope that my tours at the museum could be at least half as evocative and intriguing as Ms. Olsen's lectures (but without the colourful choice words, unfortunately). I miss her.