First we fought the crowds through the Stieglitz show at the National Gallery. One couple, behaving as if they were on a first date, stood out. As they moved through the exhibit, pausing dutifully in front of each print, he spoke nonstop of his work, which involved mutual funds and securities regulation. You could say he used an "inside" voice, but it was not by any stretch of the imagination a "gallery" or "museum" voice. Halfway through the second room, he turned to her and said, "By the way, do you like photography?" As they walked into the next room, she, shoulder blades jutting out of her magenta sundress, said "So how many brothers and sisters do you have, anyway?" [thanks Paul for filling me in on the parts I missed]

Then we went to the Open City street photography exhibit, my second time. I enjoyed it far more than I did the first time. Then I plodded obediently through the rooms, inspecting each photo carefully whether I liked it or not, and got kicked out at closing time before I reached the end. Today I saw the last three rooms, then felt free to move back and forth between rooms as I pleased, ignoring photos that didn't catch my eye, and returning to the ones that engaged me. Particularly pleasing were Beat Streuth's DVD movie montages, projected simultaneously on 3 walls of the same room, of New Yorkers on the streets. Everyone looked wistful and melancholy, turned far inward.