Malcolm and Andrew and I went into Texas Gallery yesterday (click on the archive) to see Pat Steir's show. Which lifted our flood-weary spirits a mile high. Veils of water. Delicate layers that look like fabric. Subtle metallics. Some of the canvasses are massive. The images don't do them justice, but the motion and elegance of the paint can be seen.

Now: If I had a penny for every time I've walked through a gallery and been ignored by staff chatting in the back, I couldn't buy a Steir painting, but I could buy a martini up, double olives. Would've been lovely to have had someone walk us through the work, if only to share our joy at having a chance to see it.

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