This blog was originally posted on my other blog page - http://r-sharma.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm

Bread Art Exhibition

This true story happened in 1990. My husband and myself were in Los Angeles at that time. We were living very close to Hollywood. This being the entertainment capital of the world, we were keen on hitting the famed pavements and visiting the esteemed museums of the city. We were newly weds back then and still getting to know one another. My husband knew that I was fond of art and I knew he was fond of bread! Strange combination of tastes, if you compare, but the following funny event will give you some perspective.

My husband loves old-fashioned bread instead of the factory-manufactured modern sliced bread. I prefer old-fashioned art with realistic and meaningful objects portrayed in paint, pencil or 3-D. Therefore, it is safe to say that we both are not exactly proponents of modern art.

So, one Sunday evening in 1990, my husband read in a local newspaper that there was a free bread art exhibition in town.
“Art,” I exclaimed!
“Bread,” he exclaimed!

We ignored the prefix ‘modern’, although this sounded like one. Smell of bread was far too over-powering. We were not sure what to expect. We were kind of wary about visiting yet another show of modern art. But this was art interpreted with bread. Being curious, we did not want to miss unique baked art forms, along with an occasional opportunity to nibble if no one was looking.

So off we went in search of this elusive address. The show was going to start at 5:30 PM. Exhibitions are held in fancy buildings in Hollywood area, but this one was hard to locate. After several U-turns and searching for at least a couple of hours, we finally arrived at a strip mall! Unlikely place for any exhibition, let alone Hollywood’s elite art. But this was free and so we were not thoroughly surprised by the cheap choice of the artist.

The exhibition was held inside what appeared to be a couple of stores combined into a 5-room museum of sorts. Upon walking in, we were amazed to find a few folks staring at what looked like just plain white flour (Maida) on several shelves and tables! Piles of flour had been carefully placed with some degree of finesse. Flour was not exactly strewn around. We were a bit confused and went outside once more to confirm the address. We were in the right place. Not wanting to give up so easily, we decided to walk through the display and judge it for ourselves. As we went around, all we found were 5 rooms of nothing but pure white Maida! There were sacks of flour, some half opened in a stylish way. Upon closer examination, we discovered that the piles were not entirely bereft of creativity or artistry. There were hundreds of palm prints embedded in the enriched dry mounds, as if kids were playing with flour. There were large palms, tiny palms, medium sized palms and hundreds of finger writings too. There was the usual ‘John loves Jane’ and ‘I love you’ scrolled on the flour along with a few objects like pens and an old shoe that appeared delicately placed. Strangely for my husband, there were several slices of factory-made white bread that had also been placed at regular intervals. Bread exhibit had to have sliced bread in there, somewhere! Some slices were un-toasted, others were charred.

This wasn’t for kids because the newspaper advertisement had clearly given a glowing description of the new art exhibition. Besides, when we looked around, we did not find any kids either. Along with us was a whole group of elderly Americans tourists who had all arrived there for an intellectually stimulating immersion into the arts. They too appeared a little perplexed at first, but being older and a little more sophisticated than us, they seemed to appreciate the hidden aptitude and the sheer ingenuity of the artist. Americans tend to be polite, no matter what! By the way, the artist wasn’t present in the room that day.

This was obviously the dreaded “Modern Art” that we both were simply incapable of appreciating. Obviously not wanting to appear foolish in front of this eclectic crowd, we both attempted to copy the others in the room. Elderly women appeared to be pointing to things in the flour and making what sounded like educated and astute observations. So we too started ‘Oo-ing’ and ‘Aah-ing’ at the dry "art" on Maida. My husband even played the part by putting one hand under his chin, taking a step back and bending his head a little, as if to ponder deeply. We all followed each other around and made thoughtful comments, trying to interpret whatever the artist were trying to convey. I could not stop giggling secretly at the spectacle. My husband was almost bursting, but he held on with great dignity and restraint. He wanted to give this artist a fair chance.

After about 20 minutes of this absurdity, a worker walked into the room pushing a wheelbarrow and carrying a small shovel. He looked astonished at the decent crowd that was gawking at the piles of white flour and asked if we were here for the bread show. We looked at him doubtfully, too afraid to say yes, because there was something amiss in the way he questioned us. Finally, when the cultured group of men and women collectively gave a sheepish nod, the man grinned. He revealed that the bread exhibition was all over by 11:00 AM that morning and the workers had actually moved away those wonderful pieces of real baked artwork. What was left there on those numerous shelves and tables were just the flour mounds used to anchor and display the bread art all morning! He was just there to haul off and dispose the plain flour that we had been standing there appreciating for the last 20 minutes. Turned out that the newspaper ad was wrong about the exhibition’s timing. Crowds had been playing with the flour before we arrived there, leaving behind their own graffiti on flour!

The whole crowd burst into laughter. We all were a bit embarrassed because this was a real “Emperor’s new clothes” type of scenario. None of the elderly visitors were truly capable of appreciating Modern Art after all. We were not alone!

The evening had turned out to be much more fun without the bread or the art!
I was reminded of this story because of PKSundar's wonderful blog titled: "Art With Capital F". I highly recommend this humorous blog to readers.

This is what Bread Art is supposed to look like: