Art, my ass

Last week my wife went down to Long Beach to babysit my nephew. His parents were going for a night out in Laguna Beach. Somehow they had secured tickets to the magical wonder that is The Pageant of the Masters.

For those of you who don't know, the Pageant has been a staple in Laguna for many years now. I myself attended one show that seemed to last three years.

Basically, the artisans of Laguna are dressed and made up to look like figures from classic paintings. Then these living, breathing human beings stand in front of backdrops. That's all they do. They re-enact a painting. A painting I've never seen. That hangs in a museum I never want to go to.

I realize this makes me sound like a culture-less clod, but I'm not beyond enjoying an afternoon of art. Last year for instance we caught Cai Guo-Qiang at the Guggenheim. It had flying wolves, dynamite and neon-pierced cars hanging from the ceiling, you know, art.

The point is if I want to see painted characters standing still I'll go down to the Santa Monica Promenade and watch this guy...

For an extra buck, he'll even throw in a moonwalk.