GLOSA: Don’t blow my back, Madam Warden

Yes, I will freely admit that I have a long-standing aversion to such ladies. I remember them not only from my school years, from the times of socialism, but also from the post-revolutionary years, when, thanks to our professor Vít Vlnas, we went to the National Gallery regularly. To teaching, to the workplace, with which he was firmly connected for years.

If he was there with us, the lady from the chair would assume the attitude: these are your responsibility, teacher. Once we were without him, the person would often develop incredible speed to step up for us. No, it didn’t block the view of the painting that caught our eye. She was trained for it. But she was standing a few centimeters behind us. She carefully followed every movement, sometimes even sighing loudly to let us know that we were at work for a long time.

When she started talking, it usually came with a sharp command about the permitted zone we could enter. And without words: please, could you, thank you. Explanation of the type: each canvas looks different from different angles, I am tasked with studying details, colors, brushstrokes…, she usually did not accept.

All these memories came back to me recently. Already as a person who graduated long ago. I stood again in the Prague gallery, near the paintings, only to find out that an old familiar “model” was there with me. The lady and her chair. That they are still snorting in the Czech Republic (I have not really come across this trend abroad).

So once again I’m begging you, Madam Warden, please don’t blow my back. I’m a big girl now. I don’t steal paintings, I seriously don’t intend to touch them, nor do I throw soup or other food on them. I just want to sit quietly, for long minutes, looking at something that interested me, at what (didn’t) work.