Sometimes I think museums
imprison art, jamming convictedpaintings into overcrowded galleries.
Each framed work seems
to want to live alone, lounging
in the care of just one person--
pardoned. Dull-eyed, we visitors
stagger and stand with guide-books,
stare at hanged landscapes
and superb but silly portraits.
We stumble from one walled off
period to another, under the sleepy
eyes of guards. For the crime
of having been made famous,
turned-in to authorities by collectors,
the art clings to walls, stays
still like spiders. Exhausted,
we get released into whatever
city we're visiting. Maybe we breathe
deeply and think of the fresh art
taking shape right there, right then.
hans ostrom 2022
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