Philly: The City of Neon

Before any Philly pounce on me for the title of today's post -- don't. This is not an insult. It's an observation. One, which I marveled at. Seriously, all the neon signs I saw were FULLY lit and I was really keeping an eye out for an unlit one. I was completely shocked. It didn't matter what part of the city we were in, I was impressed the signs were fully lit. Does Philly have an edict which states any shop owner wanting a neon sign must keep it in working order?

None of the 1/2 ass neon signs I see around my home for Philly. It brought joy to my heart to see this (and you're probably thinking I need to get a life if this is what I noticed about Philly -- you could be right).

There's more to Philly, but here's where I'm going to make some enemies.... I went to Geno's Steaks for a famous Philly Cheese sub and it fell flat. I LOVE a good Philly Cheese Steak, but the onions weren't sauteed enough and I figure if you're touting yourself as the organism of cheese steak subs, well, you shouldn't. I mean the sub was okay, and I loved that the baguette was fresh, but the partially sauteed onions did me in. If I happen to go back to Philly, I will give Pat's a shot. Maybe they can uphold the title of amazing cheese steak subs.

Enough about the cheese steak and neon signs... I bet you're wondering what brought me to Philly? Okay, maybe you're not. Here's what brought me to Philly....Nothing. Absolutely nothing other than pure curiosity. I've never been and went to visit my sister, YogaGirl, who lives close enough to Philly that you don't have to whine "Are we there yet"? while in the car.

Because we got a late start, and I insisted on getting a famous Philly Cheese Steak sub, our time was limited. No Liberty Bell or Rocky Statue (hell, if I refuse to see any of the movies before I die, I'm certainly not going to head over to his statue), instead, I was very cultured and chose Philly's Art Museum.

I love when European artists don't name their work and others come up with titles for their pieces. You get titles like: Two Dead Birds with One Dog or Riverview or Three Dead Birds with Two Dogs. It's interesting dead birds were such a hot topic to paint way-back-when.

The museum had a substantial number of pieces by Monet and an interesting Modern art wing. Okay, interesting is over selling it. I mean, when does breaking a shovel in half get the right to be placed in a museum with special lighting? However, what I love most about viewing modern art with YogaGirl is how frustrated she gets when she believes she can create the piece herself. She may have a point. I wonder if I should start viewing paint swatches with a different depth and appreciation as it may hang in a gallery one day. However, YogaGirl wasn't as disturbed as much as usual with 'she-can-make-this-so-it's-not-art' pieces on the wall, but was completely disturbed by the whole room devoted to Cy Twombly.

Cy passed away this year, and I know it's wrong to talk ill of the dead, but his stuff, IMHO, was HORRIBLE.

It looked like he smudged the pastels a bit and wrote some words using his toes. As we sat on the bench in the room taking in all the pieces of his exhibit, I overheard people behind me talking about how great this particular piece was. I've never felt so dumb. What was I missing? Why couldn't I see the passion in this piece created by writing some words on canvas using one's toes? Why?

Actually, I felt like this in many of the rooms of the modern art exhibit. In fact, I asked one guard if he got it. He smiled, laughed and said: "Oh yeah, I get it. Especially this piece". It was a piece of plaster navels. Yup. The belly button is now art.

So...next time you're removing clothes lint from your belly button, just remember how your belly button could be in a museum of art.