Modern Art Review
I dislike coffee shops, though I have been spending an inordinate amount of time in them recently. Old Road Coffee is down the street from my house. They open at 6:30 every morning. They are located at 2024 Bayou Road. Bayou Road is the oldest street in the city.
Some people say the oldest street is Spanish Fort Shell Road. They are wrong. There was a bayou before there was a Spanish fort. Bayou Road is what is called “the Old Portage.” It used to be a Choctaw tow path. You could say the whole reason New Orleans is where it is, is because of Bayou Road.
There is usually artwork of some type or another hanging on the walls at Old Road Coffee. It is usually for sale. You will notice I describe the wares for sale as artwork, not as art. I may not know much about art but I know it when I see it. To call the stuff on the walls “art” is belaboring the point.
I can’t tell you the last time I went to a ballet recital or bought Girl Scout cookies. The last time I went to a student art show is right now. Today, the works on exhibit are by 7th and 8th grade students. Quality varies. I find much of it uninteresting. I am not related to any of these budding artists.
There is one portrait, though, that speaks to me across the intervening decades between my current age and the 7th grader (who shall remain anonymous) who drew a portrait for the ages. It is not for sale. It is priceless.
The draughtsmanship is a bit lacking. Give the gal a break—she’s only in 7th grade. The hands are too small for the rest of the body. That’s okay. Hands are hard to draw convincingly. It is what separates a novice from a maestro. The hands are not the focal point of this picture. It is the eyes.
Who can look into those eyes and be unmoved. They are either dilated to the point of irisless-ness, or we are looking at a portrait of a lady with no pupils at all. She is not a BEK, but of a similar bloodline. Not since Margaret Keane, has a facial expression been rendered so tenderly.
As captivating as the subject’s face may be, this is not what captured my attention. It is the hairstyle. That classic hairstyle. In all my years, I have only known one woman who can pull off that hairstyle. She did it with aplomb.
A celluloid confection, it is not a hairstyle often seen in life. Something seen cannot be unseen. The past is ever-present. Today is another New Orleans day.
Boop-boop-a-doop.
