Where is ‘Bull?’ Is ‘Bull’ even here? Did I miss it? No, I don’t think so. Jesus Christ! This show goes on forever. There must a thousand pieces. Room after room of art. Why wasn’t ‘Bull’ in the first room?
But man, these sculptures are great. Really, it’s like Picasso’s paintings are in 3-D, he even did his guitar in sculpture. Absinthe drinking glasses. I’ve never seen those. Didn’t know he had those sculptures. I’d like to have a drink. The security guys standing around should serve drinks. That’d be something. Maybe Picasso’s art would make sense drunk; the twisted forms you see sober suddenly bend into normality as you get drunker and the world around the art becomes contorted. MOMA should really come to their senses on that idea, but I guess drunks stumbling around knocking into these priceless statues could be troublesome. I’ll have to come drunk another time and see what Picasso looks like then. Where is ‘Bull’? And where the hell did this guy find the time to do all these sculptures and paint and maintain a social life? It’s no surprise why Picasso had so many mistresses and two wives. He couldn’t keep them around working all the damn time. Okay seriously, where is ‘Bull’? I like those. The big voluptuous stone statues. Did I read that caption right? They are supposed to suggest sexual organs. That will get a man going and so many good looking girls walking around here, too. Wonder what they think about these pieces? There’s one, decent and nice ass like that one statue. Damn, there’s a boyfriend. What’d she just whisper to him? Wish you were as big as that statue’s nose!
“…the twisted forms you see sober suddenly bend into normality as you get drunker and the world around the art becomes contorted.”
Oh Pablo, you’re a dirty dog. Dirty are the things I’d do to that girl. Or maybe her, or her, and her too. I need to get out of this room, and stop reading Miller. Those security guys need to serve beer. A beer would go well here.
Jesus, Where is ‘Bull’? This is the Ceramics Room. Doubt it’s here. There’s that girl again. What is she looking at? Good, she walked away. Let’s see what it was: some really thin wooden statues. Shrugging my shoulders. Now, where the hell is ‘Bull’? Okay, it has to be in here. This is the last room. Aww there it is! Hidden in the corner…That’s it? It looks like some kid tried to make his own rocking horse. Let me get closer. All right, there is something worthwhile here, but it’s still pretty simple. Doesn’t mean I could do it. There’s certainly something here. I don’t know what, but it’s something, and I like it. There’s some movement to ‘Bull’, I know it. That’s it! ‘Bull’ is about to charge at the matador and receive his death. I am the matador. TORO!TORO! The bull’s horn just missed my stomach, and it’s not done yet. Now, here’s the hard part. The bull trots around the ring and I show him the muleta and he’s tired. I can see he’s tired. His eyes are like nails, and he’s been hammered all afternoon. One last one, come on Bull, TORO.TORO.TORO. The bull cranes his neck and charges. Damn, he’s quick. I feel his left horn scrape my thigh as I arch over the bull and drive the sword between his shoulder blades. Are you done, Hemingway? Hey, Ernest knew Pablo. When was ‘Bull’ made? In 1958. Hem hadn’t killed himself yet, maybe they got together and talked about bull fights and that was what inspired Pablo. Wouldn’t that’d be something. I’ll have to google that when I get home. I’ll have one more look at those sex statues. Did that girl leave? Wish she could have seen me take on ‘Bull’.