Last night Owen went to see a show of student artworks. Sculptures. He loved it.
This piece is called “The Revolutionary” – a young head on an old body. The only bad part was not being able to touch them. Even standing too close is frowned on in the art world, let alone hovering and patting.
Unless the artist in question is your sister Bronwyn.
Owen, always a restless fellow, inclined to sudden pirouetting and wanting to touch or retrieve items, or straighten them out, can be a stressful person to take into a museum environment. But last night he was pretty calm, and it felt right for him to be there with us.
Still, I wondered, as we drove home. It was Bronwyn’s first show. Was this for her yet another time when Owen’s needs dominated the family scene, distracting mom and dad’s attention? They do, even on a good day. You can love someone and still feel conflicted.
So after we had come home, I texted her to acknowledge that.
“I feel the exact opposite of a loss,” she texted back. “I’ve always privately bonded with [Owen] over the way we like to touch material. I think we’re both very sculptural, and I was thinking about the way he touches faces when I was building mine…”
You’re a pretty lucky guy, Owen Simons.