The first art display we happened upon was a woman -- a real, live woman, standing completely naked, as someone applied silver paint to her arms. Wow, wasn't expecting that. Oh look, not everyone trims their hedges, either. Lovely.

I was too shy to approach the artist and inquire about the intended meaning -- mainly cuz I didn't know where to focus my eyes without offending. But I'm guessing it was a biting satirical commentary about the plummeting use of the Susan B. Anthony coin, and the parallels it shares with the declining sales of Hustler magazine or something.

Most of the displayed artwork included price cards next to each item. Strangely, this amazing conversation piece had no price card. I guess it's priceless? It would have been a hoot to buy this piece and hang it on the wall over my fireplace. She'd be all, "Ahhhhh -- get me down now!" And I'd be all, "Shut up, you're art. Art doesn't whine."

As we browsed the other artists' displays, we began to sense the theme of the exhibition.

"Hey Sean, is Hooters the curator for this exhibition?"

Thankfully Sean's display included some beefcake -- subtle sketches of naked, muscular dudes. Sean, stop drawing me at the gym! But leave it to him to bring diversity to the art joint.

I can appreciate the beauty of the naked body. I have appreciated it many, many, oh so many times over the years, courtesy of Raging Stallion Studios, the locker room at Results, and the dude I share a bed with. I can also appreciate the beauty of the female figure, so often displayed in the famous masterpieces of yesteryear, and, more recently, in slasher films. As long as some pecs and rosebuds are featured alongside the ample bosoms and furry coin slots, I am quite warm with appreciation.

I can enjoy art in all its many forms, even if I don't always get it. I'm in awe of the intricate worlds an artist releases onto an initial slab of nothing. And anyone willing to share their mind's eye in a public forum for all to judge and dissect deserves massive respect and a fanny pat.

Rob is an amazing doodler. He can sit down for a couple hours and knock out an illustration of huge, ornate villages on mountains, ripe with intense detail. He'll go back a couple days later and add to it. He also has a unique fascination with maps and routinely draws his own geographies on paper. Where does that come from? More importantly, why aren't we selling these sketches so we can actually purchase bread and milk during this turbulent economy?

I've tried to tap into my inner artist, but sadly he's taken an Ambien.

One of the electives I took in college was an art course -- mainly because I knew I would get the opportunity to draw live nude models.

When forced, I can draw a decent interpretation of a still setting based on perspective (the view out of a window, a building, a clean rosebud, and, of course, a bowl of fruit -- btw, I think it's time to retire the overdone bowl of fruit renderings; it's so Middle Ages -- think outside the kitchen). But I suck at drawing people. I'm envious of anyone who can do it. I think that much skill and attention to detail is part of one's DNA -- like autism, vocal prowess, and the gum-snapping tick. Some of us are born with it; most are not.

The worst part of my art course was having to critique someone's artwork in front of the class. I learned humility then. This is when future art gallerists fine-tune their superlatives and convey their emotions with ease. One girl said, "This piece really speaks to me. It's almost like it's alive." Then some joker would pound on his desk to simulate a heartbeat. So rude. I swear it wasn't me.

The final project for the course was to use published words and draw a picture that defines the theme. I chose the lyrics to "Everything's Zen" by Bush. I drew the head of Butthead on top of a donkey. Yes, I am deep. I thought it looked good! If I can locate it underneath all the rubble in my closet, I'll scan it and post it here.

I received a B for the course and an admonishment from my professor for being "very strange."

Art is subjective, no?