The Philosophy: As we move farther and farther away from the age of classical art, the world becomes less interested by it. Instead, we are turning our eyes towards MTV and YouTube as our main sources of culture. Even the greatest artists of the twentieth century are being ignored. For instance, most people recognize the name Picasso, but only a small portion of those people can name one of his paintings. And while modern art has succeeded in opening the doors of how artists express themselves, it has failed to draw from influences of the classical period. If we continue down this road, we will become blind to one of the most vital and fascinating parts of human history.
"I doubt that security will let you in with a broom handle. They might consider that to be a weapon." These words—uttered by my mom—kicked off one of the stranger shoots of this project. Until very recently, I was like the vast majority of Americans without visual impairment, in that I did not have a blind person's cane. But unlike that same vast majority, I had a photo shoot in which my subject was supposed to seem blind. So I did what anyone would have done. I unscrewed the handle of a broom and left it at that. Turns out that's not good enough for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. So after debating for a good five minutes about how we could procure a blind persons cane, we were able to put the last cane on reserve at a medical supplies store on 72nd and 3rd. We drove there, picked up the cane, and were at the museum in record time.
Our next task was to come up with an appropriate outfit so that Sophie would look convincingly blind. I had brought an assortment of sunglasses, while Sophie had half of her hat collection in her purple-tiger tote bag. We eventually settled on the bucket hat and a pair of black sunglasses that probably cost $5.00 or less. But as fate would have it, the item which really made the whole outfit come together was the cane. In fact, we ended up fooling a large number of the museums patrons, including my sister's physical therapist. (We ran into him in one of the museum's statue gardens. He proceeded to call my mom asking "what kind of visual impairment does Alex's friend have?")
We went to various parts of the museum, often getting lost in the sheer size of the place. We exchanged random bits of trivia, looked at art, and developed "museum fatigue," a phrase coined by Sophie to describe the specific type of weariness one feels after spending too long in a museum. We shot at one of the statue gardens, the giant statue court, the contemporary art section, and the Temple of Dendur—on of my favorite locations in the whole museum. But everywhere we went, we seemed to draw attention. "I think it's for a school project," one would say, or "I don't know. Do you think she's really blind?" I noticed a pattern among the four shoots I have done so far, and among the people who pass by. However curious, surprised, or confused people are about the girl in costume and the guy with the camera, nobody ever asks. And I could not for the life of me tell you why.
After about an hour of shooting and two hours of wandering, I finally finished the last roll. I felt really good about everything. Since the shoot was inside, the freezing cold which had plagued the last three shoots was not a factor this time, so I ended up having more time to do everything. On the way out I heard a security guard tell a man he couldn't bring his sled into the museum; I was glad we hadn't tried to go in with the broom handle.
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