Since Maria and I got together, museums have become a rich and continuous part of my life. Her love of them is infectious, and from talking with her and watching her, I have learned much about art. I have to say, though, that museums also bring out the outsider in me, they often seem to me to be lonely places, full of strangers passing through and guards who watch me closely and pay close attention to my camera.

This guard was very nice, we talked for awhile, he seemed apologetic about enforcing rules, I loved his face and asked him if I could photograph it. He said yes. In museums, we rarely talk to strangers, people stare silently and deeply at the art that I really know little about. Sometimes, as in the Jamie Wyeth exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts, I find myself deeply touched and moved and inspired by what I am seeing.

Sometimes, as in the Francisco Goya exhibit, I simply can’t imagine what the fuss is about, or why all of these people stand in rapture staring at things that do not touch me at all. This is the thing about art, of course, it is deeply personal and individual. There are few things in my life I love doing now more than going to museums with Maria, yet they do bring out the loneliness in me, I think I spent too many years starting in at places I did not understand and do not really belong.