How to Not Get Kicked Out While Visiting an Art Gallery

There’s an unspoken code of conduct when visiting art galleries: whisper respectfully, gaze thoughtfully, and for the love of Pollock, do not touch the art. Unfortunately, Hambone and Mullethead never got the memo. Which is how they ended up teetering on the edge of cultural catastrophe during a supposedly sophisticated outing downtown.

Culture Crawl: The Wives Had a Plan

Millie and Hillary had dreams of refinement.

“We’re going to soak up some culture today,” Millie declared, tugging her husband Mullethead by the arm.

“Is it edible?” he asked, confused.

Hillary rolled her eyes. “No, it’s art. Real art. Oil on canvas, marble busts, abstract installations—you’ll love it!”

Hambone, in his infinite nervous wisdom, asked, “Is this the kind of place where I gotta wear pants without cargo pockets?”

The answer was yes.

After reconsidering their questionable fashion choices, the crew opted for something more appropriate. Mullethead wore boots polished enough to see your reflection. Then, the crew headed to The Riverbend Contemporary Art Museum, a proud and prickly hub of highbrow expression.

First Impressions: Art or Accident?

Upon entering, Hambone whispered, “I think I just saw a million-dollar toilet seat.”

“That’s a sculpture titled Inner Turmoil,” said a passing docent with a smile tight enough to seal a Ziploc bag.

Mullethead leaned toward Hambone. “Looks more like ‘Internal Turmoil Portal ‘ passed off as absurd art genius.”

“Shhh,” hissed Hillary. “Pretend you’re cultured.”

They tiptoed from one exhibit to the next, trying not to breathe too loud. But their inner Texans were restless. At one point, Mullethead stood baffled in front of a blank white canvas.

“It’s called Silence,” said Millie, reading the placard.

“I call it ‘Forgot to do Homework,’” he replied.

They also found a series of paintings made entirely of used chewing gum. They discovered a taxidermy raccoon wearing a tutu. Additionally, they found a video installation of a man screaming into a jar for fifteen minutes.

“Is this performance art?” Hambone asked.

“No,” said Mullethead, ” He’s just reacting to the gift shop prices.”

Tools for the Cultured Texan

Learning To Look At Modern Art – Don’t walk in blind. This book breaks it down so even your uncle Bubba can understand surrealism. [Find it on Amazon]

Pentax Papilio Pocket Binoculars – Ideal for viewing tiny brushstrokes from a respectful distance (and pretending you know what impasto is). [Find it on Amazon]

Sony Noise-Canceling Earbuds – When you need a breather from interpretive dance videos on loop. [Find it on Amazon]

The Incident: Almost Abstracted from the Premises

It happened in the interactive room. A sign read, “Touch with your mind, not your hands.” Naturally, Mullethead read it as a challenge.

“This piece looks like a recliner,” he said.

“That’s because it is one,” Hambone whispered. “It’s called Recline of Thought.”

Before Millie could intervene, Mullethead plopped down into the “sculpture,” groaning like he just sat down after a long cattle drive.

An alarm blared.

A docent materialized from behind a curtain, armed with a clipboard and judgment.

“Sir, that is a $14,000 piece of contemporary commentary.”

“Feels like a La-Z-Boy with existential angst,” Mullethead replied.

Security hovered nearby, radios crackling, eyebrows raised. Hillary pleaded. Millie blushed. Hambone silently mouthed, “We’re so banned.”

Laughing Through It: Recovery Tactics

They weren’t ejected—barely. But from then on, the foursome kept their hands firmly behind their backs and their jokes dialed (slightly) down.

Hambone found a series of paintings that he genuinely loved: bold strokes, vibrant colors, something about them just clicked.

“I get it now,” he said. “This art makes me feel something.”

“Is it hunger?” Mullethead asked.

“No,” Hambone said. “Well, maybe a little. But also awe. Like someone poured their soul into it.”

Millie and Hillary exchanged proud glances. Their boys were growing up. Ish.

They even joined a guided tour. After a while, Mullethead asked the docent, “Is there a gift shop, or do we just take the art off the walls?”

The docent did not laugh.

Museum Manners: A Quick Texan Survival Guide

If you’re planning on visiting an art gallery and want to avoid a Mullethead-style incident, here’s what not to do:

• Do not sit on anything unless it has legs and an invitation.
• Do not describe art as “weird but kinda tasty-looking.”
• Do not ask if the abstract painting is upside down. Even if it might be.
• Do keep your inside voice and your outside curiosity.
• And always, always read the signs.

Culture Shock and Awe

They ended the afternoon with lattes and laughter at a nearby café, recounting every awkward moment with gusto.

“I think we’re banned from the reclining art forever,” Millie joked.

“It was in the interactive room!” Mullethead protested.

“Next time,” Hillary said, “we’re doing a cooking class. No art. No alarms.”

“If they use the word Umami more than once, or say ‘You eat with your eyes’, I’m walking out!” Hambone added.

They may not have become true art aficionados that day, but they left with a new appreciation for creative expression—and a list of rules for next time.

That’s All Folks!

If you’ve ever felt too rowdy for an art gallery, don’t worry—you’re in good company. High culture isn’t for everyone, like those who sometimes misunderstand the furniture. For more tales of food, friendship, and fine art misfires, subscribe to Eathenet.com below.