THE EYE-POPPING ART PIECE OF ATHENIA HIGH

James J. Yellen

Twenty-seven across, twelve letters. “A member of the German family of Swabian origin.”

I threw the newspaper onto the floor in disgust. Humbled again! I have yet to make it even halfway through a Sunday New York Times crossword puzzles without quitting in frustration.

I was in the middle of my Sunday morning ritual of wading through the New York Times, two hundred and fifty pages and nine and a half pounds of information delivered to my doorstep by a masochistic adolescent with a double hernia.

I sifted through the other sections strewn about the floor and selected “Arts and Leisure” for perusal. I always liked to read the film reviews to see whether or not I had enjoyed the movies I’d just seen. I always reserved judgment on new films until I could see what the Times reviewer had to say.

But on an inside page, my eye was attracted to a photo of a formless lump of stone sculpture. The caption beneath it said, “Neffertiti Bathing.” I turned the paper sideways, then upside down to see if it had been printed wrong. Nothing. “Hrumph! I’ve seen better shaped lumps of coal.” I thought to myself as I read the caption.

“The ambiance is not the quasi-essential question about the sculpture. Nor is it its stunning formal presence. On the contrary, it is the way in which the carefully orchestrated grace of the piece attracts and holds the cultured mind and eye of the chic observer. This is a classical work which reveals the frank sensual ambitions of the artist.”

I let the paper fall to my lap and laughed out loud.

“Reveals the frank sensual ambitions of the artist.” I had to laugh as I recalled a time years ago when my own “frank sensual ambitions” were revealed in a piece of artwork created with my own hands.

The whole shameful thing had started on one evening while in my bedroom listening to the radio.