Weird scenes inside the gold mine

My family attended the wedding of a good friend this weekend.  The bride's father is a manager/producer and let's just say he's high on the food chain; not just in Nashville but globally.  The house was extraordinary, the art collection mind-boggling and I'll just sum it up with one image:

A "selfie" by Ringo Starr, taken with a film camera in a bathroom mirror circa late 1960's.  Signed.  To said father.

The photo collection alone was a music geek's wet dream.  Turning to leave the bathroom, up above the light switches...holy shit, a letter press print of sheet music signed by Brian Wilson.  It just kept going.  Taking in the Miro' on the staircase landing, I was filled with many emotions but ultimately I take some heart in the fact that people of that economic level collect art accordingly.  Certainly not all of them, but some.  Chagall, Warhol, Howard Finster, it just kept going; a feast to the eyes at every turn with a decidedly clear aesthetic.  They were hung with appreciation but never in a vulgar, showy way.  These people lived with their art, and I think that is what gave me hope.

It was a window into a world few of us (at my socio-economic level) get to see.  Art that may or may never be viewed by the general public again.  Out of respect, I left my phone in the car and didn't check-in.  Alas, no selfie with the Miro', but everyone deserves their personal space if not their privacy.  Who knows what treasures are locked in the temples of the 1% that will never again see the museums?

And tomorrow night, I will leave all that behind, suit up, and go finish the painting in the studio....

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