The IMA is no different. The museum’s “gallery rules” are rules for proper behavior around the artwork so that the collection is maintained in the best possible condition for generations to come. Most of the rules are common sense, if you stop and think about it. I mean, if Mom won’t let anyone eat pizza on her new sofa, do you think we want anyone near the Monet with a Double Decaf and a sticky bun? Think again, buck-o.

No touching is the Numero Uno rule we have. We humans are such tactile animals that we want to touch everything, from the shiny surface of Donald Judd’s Untitled, 1967 to the rough surface of Robert Indiana’s LOVE sculpture.

I understand, I have those urges too. Nonetheless, we must keep our grubby mitts off the artwork. I may have just swabbed down head to toe with anti-bacterial scrubs before attempting to fondle Augustus Saint-Gaudens’ Diana, but if I can touch it, eventually we’ll have Little Johnny come along with his chubby Reese’s-caked fingers who’ll do a chocolate smear job on the piece. Over time, we’ll have a bazillion people leaving all manner of crap and corruption on our artwork.

No touching includes touching with other items, like pointy writing utensils or umbrellas and canes. Pencils are allowed in the galleries for convenience, but pens should stay in the pocket because ink is more difficult to remove than graphite. Plus, these items can scratch, chip, and rip the art.

There’s a common phrase about a “bull in a china shop” which is a scenario we try to avoid by restricting large bags and backpacks in the galleries, though we accommodate visitors with special needs. I’m telling you, some folks look like they’re ready to tackle a two-day assault on El Cap with the huge packs they carry in. Some folks think we’re worried about theft, which we are, sort of, but mostly we worry about stuff getting knocked over or banged up. Try our FREE coat check and meet officer Pearl Foster.

Photo flash is prohibited for general visitors, though we do allow limited use by the media, with close scrutiny from our Conservation staff. Think back to Mom’s new sofa. If it sat by a sunny window for a few years it would look faded and drab, just like our art would if we allowed flash photography.

Speaking of photography … we only allow photos of our permanent collection, so no pics in the special exhibits or in the third floor Contemporary galleries, and no tripods, bipods, or monopods, thank you. Why, you might ask? Hell, I don’t know. I’d have better luck explaining the Golden Ratio than I would Copyright Law and our Rights & Reproduction guidelines. Suffice it to say that we don’t want photos of our collection showing up in places not of our choosing.

So let’s recap: no food or drink in the galleries, no touching, no large bags or backpacks, no flash photography, and no photos in the special exhibits or Contemporary galleries. There are a few other rules that I’ve skipped, mainly because they don’t come in to play very often, but I’ve hit the big ones. We want everyone to come to our house and check out all the great things we have to offer, we only hope you understand when we ask you to follow our rules.

And that brings me to the topic of blog rules. Despi was kind enough to re-introduce me to them on my last post so this cartoon is dedicated to her benevolent dictatorship. From blogs to blackjack, the house always gets its cut.

Let me state for the record that a page in this book is like 20 pages in any other. It’s dense. Really dense. Check out this quote from page 817: “The articulation of Structuralism and semiotics to a Lacanian psychoanalysis wherin the human subject was understood as formed in the play of gender difference contained far-reaching implications for the avant-garde.” Huh? Try reading that before bedtime. Rather than Chamomile Tea or sleeping pills, Art in Theory is what I use when I have insomnia. I labor through 2 pages and I’m exhausted.

I know I sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not. I love this book. I love all 1376 pages. I love it because I am a self-proclaimed art geek, and this is the book for art geeks. It tells the story of 20th-century art from the first-hand perspectives of artists, critics and philosophers. It’s not distilled down art history in some art appreciation text book. This is art history straight from the horse’s mouth. From Sigmund Freud to Donald Judd, there’s a little something for everyone and a whole heck of a lot just for me!

I mention this book for a couple of reasons. First, and most importantly, I sound like a smarty pants when I announce that I’m reading a book such as Art in Theory. And what’s the purpose of a blog if not to make you sound like a smarty pants. However, to be fair, I will admit that reading and understanding a book like this are two completely different things. I’m reading 100% of the content; I’m understanding about 50%. As I wade through the text, I’ve been stunned by the connections that have emerged. Even at half capacity, it’s amazing to consider the progression from Cezanne to Nam June Paik. On a good day this book has the capacity to blow my mind!

My second reason for writing about this book is that I had one of those mind-blowing experiences this week. On the very night that I read Michael Kimmelman’s beautiful obituary for Robert Rauschenberg, I reached the page (page 761 to be exact) dedicated to the reprint of Jasper John’s obituary written for Marcel Duchamp. It was extremely timely as Rauschenberg was a contemporary of John’s and the two artists were greatly influenced by Duchamp’s work. I found the short essay so eloquent and poetic that I have to share it.

John’s obituary for the legendary artist was originally printed in the November, 1968 ArtForum. I quote the first four and last two lines.

The self attempts balance, descends. Perfume – the air was to stink of artists’ egos. Himself, quickly torn to pieces. His tongue in cheek. Marcel Duchamp, one of this century’s pioneer artists, moved his work through the retinal boundaries which had been established with Impressionism into a field where language, though and vision act upon one another…”

…The art community feels Duchamp’s presence and his absence. He has changed the condition of being here.”

WOW! It’s rare when an art theory book can make you cry, but I did a little after reading John’s final lines. After reading hundreds of pages filled with chapters like “The Legacy of Symbolism,” “Neo-Plasticism: The General Principal of Plastic Equivalent,”and “Manifesto of Mural Painting,” I was surprised to be so moved. This kind of moment makes me want to keep reading. And I WILL, because I’m in it to win it.

So, I’ve got about 600 pages to go. At this rate I’ll be done some time in the winter of 2009. Sure it’s a challenge, but I’m learning so much. Heck, I’m already starting to look forward to Art in Theory: 1815-1900.