The Ladies Committee

it wasn't something i had wanted to do, but once i'd been roped in i decided to give it my all. peter had just finished touring and all of his hand-painted gorgeous silk panels were available to me, so i called in that chit. he had his crew spend the day installing them at the venue. when they finished, the effect was utterly breathtaking. peter and i stood in the back of the theater and marveled at the transformed space. the reconstructed skeletons of dinosaurs that belonged to the museum standing in front of the impressionistic mosaic of layered and compressed earth evoked a feeling of time travel. peter and i spoke of flow and beauty. everything felt right. The Ladies Committee came in as a group and sat in the seats in the very back row. they didn't 'understand' how impressionistic compressed earth related to dinosaurs. they wanted 'something more literal- no, cute!'. what? clicking tongues and small minds made a mockery of the magnificence. i felt my face turn to fire. peter knew me well enough to take my arm and walk me away. he signaled his crew to start disassembling the panels as he did his best to talk me back to calm. i glared at The Ladies Committee. they looked like stupid, overfed sheep in daytime pearls and poplin. i wanted to shred them with my fluent and profane longshoreman patois. peter finally said, 'they're not like us, don't waste your breath, girl.' i squeezed my eyes tight and nodded agreement.