"Guggenheim Pop: 1960 to Now"

"Soft Pay Phone" by Claes Oldenburg (1963) 

When I think of the Guggenheim, it's the rotunda that comes to mind. It's pretty iconic. Not surprisingly, that's where the lead exhibit on view can be seen. But the Museum has side rooms as well, which is where "Guggenheim Pop:1960 to Now" is now on display. I enjoyed it much more than the works in the rotunda by Carol Bove.

Pop Art was a movement that pushed back against the rigors of traditional fine art. Artists working in this style looked to everyday objects and television and even comic books for their inspiration. The movement came on the heels of Abstract Expressionism and the non-objective canvases of works by the likes of Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko. What a contrast.   

Claes Oldenburg's "Soft-Pay Telephone" is a prime example of Pop Art. But why a phone? And why is it so baggy? 

If you think back to the 1960s, pay phones were a fact of life. Oldenburg created this work in 1961, well before the first mobile phone -- weighing in at two pounds -- was invented in 1973. Even the shoe phone, compliments of "Get Smart," was years away. So the object is something everyone would have related to who saw it. 

The bagginess is another thing all together. A couple of years earlier, Oldenburg created an installation called "The Store" that featured plastic replicas of ordinary objects, from clothing to food to, yes, a pay phone. The lumpy goods were stand-ins for the human body, which is why the phone sags a bit. I could have lived without thinking about that analogy. 

"Pearls" by Jim Dine (1961)

Jim Dine is known for affixing everyday objects to his canvases. Often, these items were sourced from the streets of New York. And so the "pearls" for which this painting is named are not pearls at all but small rubber balls cut in half. 

You might have noticed that some of the letters in the word "Pearls" are blurred together. This was not just sloppiness on the artist's part. Instead, the style represents the blurring of the lines between language and physical reality. I like it. 

In addition to his conceptual art, Dine is known as one of the founders of the Happenings movement. Happenings were improvisational participatory art events that included the audience. They were typically held in art galleries or lofts or similar spaces that allowed people to freely join the action. My law school roommate and I once inadvertently attended a happening at a restaurant in California.Talk about feeling like a deer in the headlights. We remained firmly in our seats with baffled expressions on our faces. 

"Julia" by Kara Romero (1977)

I was excited to come upon a work by Cara Romero, an artist I was introduced to in the "Something Borrowed, Something New" exhibit now on at Sarasota Art Museum. I've become a fan of Romero's photographic storytelling. 

"Julia" is an image from Romero's series entitled First American Dolls in which she presents Native Americans as dolls in life-size boxes. This made me wonder whether there is a Native American American Girl doll. The answer is "yes." Kaya'aton'my (or Kaya) debuted in 2002 and was developed after extended consultation with members of the Nez Perce tribe.

Romero's intention in creating this series was to represent the stories of Native Americans in an accurate manner rather than as a stereotype. In this work, the artist's niece wears a traditional dress known as a "manta" made from hand-woven cloth. The objects in the work include baskets woven by the artist's grandmother and an ancestor's drum. It doesn't get much more personal than that. 

For more on Romero and her work, click here. And to see her "TV Indians" on view at Sarasota Art Museum, click here. Better yet, come see the work in person if you're in the area. "Something Borrowed, Something New" runs through September 27th.

With the July 28, 2026 version of "Comedian" by Maurizio Cattelan

I'll leave you with "Comedian" by Maurizio Catelan, a work that never fails to garner interest. This isn't the first time I've encountered this unusual artwork. I attended Art Basel in 2019 and was among the thousands of people to stop by and see a banana duct taped to a wall. 

The original work sold for a whopping $120,000. Then, in what can only be referred to as "monkey see, monkey do," another collector snapped up the second "edition" of the work, with a third edition going for $150,000. I thought that was crazy at the time. But what's really bananas is that in 2024, "Comedian" sold for -- wait for it -- $6.2 million at an auction at Sothebys. The purchaser was Jason Suh, a "cryptocurrency entrepreneur." That actually kind of makes sense. This edition was gifted to the Guggenheim, with the collector getting a hefty tax write off. 

I suspect one of the many things you're thinking is "What happens when the banana rots?" Cattelan considered that issue, of course. The artwork comes with a set of instructions about how to replace it, which I would dearly love to see. "Go to Publix and purchase a near ripe banana" could be the starting point. For more on Cattelan and his conceptual artwork, click here. And with that, it's time for breakfast.  

"Costume Art" at the Met

Rafaello Monti's "The Veiled Woman"
and John Galliano's Ensemble

The Costume Art exhibit now on at the Met is beyond fabulous. The exhibit showcases garments that date "from prehistory to the present," most of which are from the Met's extensive collection. (In case you're wondering -- as I was -- the term "prehistory" means the period before people left written records.) While this would be a terrific show in and of itself, what puts it over the top is the pairing of the costumes with other objects and works of art. 

Take, for instance, Rafaello Monti's sculpture of "The Veiled Woman" circa 1854 and John Galliano's "Ensemble" from Maison Marciela's autumn/winter 2020-2021 haute couture collection. The pairing is situated by a beautiful headless sculpture whose details I neglected to note. In my defense, there is a lot going on in this exhibit. 

These artworks features "wet drapery," a term for this clinging form of dress. Think of it as the ancient equivalent of a wet t-shirt contest. The sculptural style dates back to ancient Greece circa 5th century BC, a time when it was deemed inappropriate to fully reveal a woman's body in a work of art. Today there's much less concern about that, but wet drapery lives on. Click here to see Kendall Jenner rocking the style at the most recent Met Gala, an event that funds the work of the Costume Institute. The dress wouldn't be easy to dance in, but I don't think that was her priority.

Gown by Yahji Yamamoto, "Corazon, Corazon" by Nahum B. Zenil
and "Ensemble" by Daniel Roseberry (House of Schiaparelli)

How about a little color to perk things up?  Shown here are, from left to right, Yahji Yamamoto's red silk crepe de chine dress from the spring/summer 2005 collection, "Corazon, Corazon" by Nahum B. Zenil (1981), and Daniel Roseberry's "Ensemble" from Schiaparelli's autumn/winter 2025-26 haute couture collection. The necklace complementing the Schiaparelli is made of silver brass and red Swarovski crystals. 

You might notice -- I didn't at the time -- that the head and the arms of the mannequin wearing the Schiaparelli are positioned backwards. What's with that? Schiaparelli is known for merging haute couture with surrealism. A distant bell is now ringing in my head about a Schiaparelli exhibit at the Dali in St. Pete, which you can read about by clicking here. Her work -- and that of her studio assistants -- has always been fabulous. 

Yamamoto is best known for his oversized silhouettes, heavy use of black and avant garde tailoring. So we're only batting .333 here. The description of this gown notes that "the accordion-like folds...oscillate between compression and release, akin to a pulse." Huh. I could have stood there forever and never gotten that analogy. But this interpretation of the gown makes sense in the context of Zenil's painting, with his self-portrait embedded in a human heart. In fact, the Spanish word for "heart" is "corazon;" hence, the name of the work. The curators must have had a blast coming up with these groupings. 

Roman cuirass paired with chest coat and waist coat by YSL

I'll leave you with perhaps the most striking pairing in the exhibit. On the left is an Etruscan anatomical vest of sorts known as a cuirass, late 5th-4th century BCE. Beautiful as it is, the bronze piece of armor would have been worn in battle. Interestingly, the cuirass has inlaid copper nipples and what might even be a belly button. This version lacks the six pack that many cuirasses exhibit. The idea was to create something that mimicked a warrior's idealized body. The armor would have been made specifically for the warrior who would wear it and would have sat above his hips to allow freedom of movement. 

This cuirass is paired with a stunning gilt and galvanized copper chest coat and waist coat by Claude Lalanne for Yves Saint Laurent. Lalanne is best known as an artist and sculptor, which explains why these coats are made from gilt and copper rather than fabric. The work is known as a "body sculpture," and the components were cast from the body of supermodel Verushka.YSL said of Claude's creations that "her beautiful sculptor's hands seem to push back the mystery to reach the shores of art." 

Claude Lalanne Chest and Waist Coats on the runway (2022)

It's hard to resist going into a deep live about Lalanne, who created art under the name "Les Lalanne" with her husband Francois-Xavier. The duo are perhaps best known in the world of art for their sculptures of sheep, which you can see by clicking here. I've seen their sheep somewhere along the way in my museum travels, and they are great fun. They don't, however, compare to the beauty of this fashion. For more on Les Lalanne, click here.

With that, I'll leave you with an exhortation not to miss this exhibit if you are in the New York area. If that's not in the cards, you learn see more from the show by clicking here.   

"Giocometti in the Temple of Dendur" at the Met

People in the art world sometimes talk about works of art being "in conversation." While it's a phrase that might make you roll your eyes, it's the perfect way to describe the exhibit "Giocometti in the Temple of Dendur" at the Met. I can imagine the sculptures coming alive after closing and wandering the Temple a la Ben Stiller's "Night at the Museum." But it's the contrasting textures of the stone of the Temple and the stone of Giocometti's sculptures that make the phrase most apt for me in the artistic sense. It's a special exhibit. 

I have a vague recollection of visiting the Temple of Dendur on a summer associate outing circa 1985. It hasn't changed, although my appreciation of it has. The Temple dates back to circa 10 BCE and lived on the Nile River in Lower Nubia, an area between Egypt and the Sudan. It was built during the reign of Emperor Augustus after Rome conquered Egypt. The carvings on the sandstone blocks tell stories, many of which depict Augustus as a pharoah. I have thoughts about that, but they're beyond the scope of this post. As a true aside, did you know the month of August was named after the Emperor? 

You might wonder how the Temple ended up in New York City, a far cry from its original site by the Nile. When Egypt decided to build the Aswan Dam, the Temple had to be moved or it would have been submerged. It was given to the United States in 1965 as thanks for our financial and technical contributions to UNESCO's International Campaign to Save the Monuments of Nubia. 

The Met won the right to house the Temple after a competitive bidding process. The kicker was the institution's promise to build a climate controlled wing that would preserve the sandstone structure. The room is stunning, with vast windows that bring the outside into the space. The Temple opened to the public in its new home in 1978. 

This brings us to the question of how Giocometti's sculptures ended up living on the Temple's grounds, so to speak. Giocometti was fascinated with Egyptian art from a young age, and he could often be found wandering the Egyptian wing of the Louvre. He particularly liked the upright figures of Egyptian pharoahs, which he found full of life and power. They always feel a bit intimidating to me, with their erect postures and static gazes. Writing this, my mind flashed to the guards at Buckingham Palace and kids jumping up and down to make them flinch, to no avail. But I digress. 

Giocometti's earliest walking man sculpture was "Walking Man I" (also known as "Walking Man Leaning Forward.") The work is associated with the quest for human survival despite the trauma of war. The artist had escaped Paris for Geneva during WWII and was overwhelmed when he returned by the devastation the War had wrought. There was physical destruction, of course, but Giocometti was also attuned to the emotional impact of the War on the citizens of his adopted country. The rough texture of his sculpture's surfaces represent the psychological scarring carried by survivors, so the fact that they're somewhat unsettling is apt. 

Giocometti's sculptures are also associated with Existentialism, the basic idea of which is that each individual is responsible for the path her life takes. "One must imagine Sisyphus happy," said Albert Camus. It seems appropriate to envision Sisyphys rolling his stone up the hill in a continuing loop while thinking about how incredibly difficult it was to construct the Temple of Dendur. Happily, the stones of the Temple of Dendur have stayed in place all these centuries. 

I'll leave you with a hieroglyphic from one of the Temple's 661 Nubian sandstone blocks. It's truly amazing that the images -- sacred carvings to the Egyptians -- have survived, especially because the blocks are not glazed. If my calculations are correct, each block weighs close to 2,000 pounds. Nobody was going to make off with one of them in the middle of the night. 

This image depicts Hathor and Harendotes receiving wine from Pharoah Augustus, whom I seem to have cut out of the image. Oops! For more on the carvings, click here. 

If this post has piqued your interest in the history of the Temple of Dendur, click here for a short video. And click here to see some fabulous images of Giocometti in his tiny Parisian studio. They're quite a contrast to the expansive space where his sculptures are on display at the Met.

"Giocometti in the Temple of Dendur" runs through September 8th. It's a must see exhibit if you're in New York. 

"Botero in New York" at Sotheby's

"Woman in the Bathroom" (2002)

I distinctly remember the first time I saw a painting by Fernando Botero. I was going to a lecture at Artis-Naples, and the corridors surrounding the theater were filled with works by the Colombian artist. I didn't know quite what to make of them. The people portrayed were so engaging -- and so rotund, to put it politely. 

I now know that Botero viewed his characters as sensuous rather than, well, fat. His figures claim the space around them. Everything in his art is supersized, not just the humans. It gives his work an exuberance that always makes me smile. 

   

When I learned that Sotheby's would be home to a Botero exhibit during my visit to New York, the show was added to my list of "must see art." I wasn't sure what to expect at the venue, though. Would it be a regular exhibit, or would salespeople hover around visitors in hopes of a sale? Did I need to wear my pearls? Happily, it was a straight up exhibit -- with some buying opportunities if you have very deep pockets. Organized in collaboration with The Botero Foundation, there are 25 paintings on display. What a treat of a show.

Botero didn't come out of the womb with a desire to be a professional artist. Instead, he wanted to be a matador. He even went to school for two years to learn the art of bullfighting.Yikes! Eventually, young Fernando realized it was safer to make paintings of bulls than to fight them. (Digression: I was going to say "paint" bulls, but that conjured up images of him running after a bull with paintbrush in hand.) The exhibit didn't include any of those works, but you can see some of those images by clicking here. The matador is approximately the same size as the bull in the first image -- lol. 

"Cardenal (Nino de Guevara)" (1964) 

Botero was drawn to depicting the human form from an early age. In fact, when he was in Catholic school, young Fernando could often be found in the principal's office for painting nudes. He eventually was expelled, with the final straw being his submission of a paper entitled "Pablo Picasso and Nonconformity in Art." I'm sure you can see how dangerous exposure to the ideas in such a report could have been for young minds. 

Still, Botero's early style wasn't particularly different from that of his peers. His artistic perspective expanded after a trip to Europe when he was 20 years old. During his travels, he took in the work of artists like Velasquez, Goya and, most importantly, Rubens. You've probably heard a woman with a fullsome body being referred to as "Rubenesque." That term comes from Rubens' depiction of women who did not spend much time at the gym. Botero was drawn to the volume of these figures and began pumping up his characters and their surroundings alike. Now he had his own style, but it was one the art world did not immediately laud.  

"Monalisa" (1959)

Abstract expressionism was the style du jour. Think Pollock's spatter and drip technigues, Rothko's color field paintings or Francis Bacon's visceral work. Botero could have been painting in an entirely different universe. Still, he pushed the boundaries of figurative work, and his work began to garner attention. 

In 1963, MOMA included Botero's "Mona Lisa, Age 12" in a show featuring recent acquisitions. The style was very different than his later work, with visible drawing marks on the faces of the figures. The exhibit included a number of these works, which can be seen in the link below. I do not like them, but it was interesting to see how his art evolved.

Instead, I preferred this version of "Monalisa," with the woman poised (once she gets up) to make her own attempt at creating a work of art. But I digress, sort of. The big deal is that Botero's "Mona Lisa, Age 12" was on view at MOMA at the same time THE "Mona Lisa" by da Vinci was on display at the Met. What a contrast! The reports make it sound like the New York art world kind of lost its mind. For a dive into all of Botero's takes on "Mona Lisa," click here. And to see more of Botero's versions of famous artwork, click here. 

Detail from "Los Ricos" (1967)

Last up is this adorable puppy that sits in the corner of Botero's "Los Ricos." The puffball on the top of his head is a nice touch, but it's his little tongue sticking out at the viewer that I like the most. The work is "immediately available for purchase." In case you want to see the entire painting before making a decision about an offer, click here. 

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that Botero also created sculptures with figures as fullsome as those in his paintings. The exhibit included only one such work -- "Leda and the Swan." I much preferred the pair of sculptures I came upon at a stop at the Wichita State sculpture garden. (Don't ask.) Click here and scroll down to see them. You are truly a scrooge if they don't make you smile. 

"Botero" in New York continues through September 7th and is definitely worth seeing if you're in the area. Click here for more information. 

Next up: "Giocometti in the Temple of Dendur" at the Met. 

"Visual Voices: Public Art in the Sunshine State" at the St. Pete Museum of History

George Snow Hill Coast Guard
mural (1938)

The St. Pete Museum of History is now home to "Visual Voices: Public Art in the Sunshine State." It's a terrific exhibit that showcases St. Pete's long history of promoting public art. Even before the Depression and the creation of the WPA, artwork could be found in City Hall and other public spaces. But with the advent of WPA funding, more public art popped up across the city. Quite often, these works were created by George Snow Hill. 

Hill's resume includes representing the United States in the International Exhibit at the 1932 Summer Olympics. Let me digress here for a moment because my mind is kind of blown. Painting -- along with architecture, literature, music and sculpture -- were Olympic events from 1912-1948. The tie-in was that the work had to be inspired by some kind of athletic endeavor. The "Pentathlon of the Muses" was discontinued in large part because too many professional artists were participating. Um, couldn't there have just been a rule about this? For more on this slice of Olympic history, click here. Now back to St. Pete. 

The exhibit highlighted two of Hill's murals that became controversial long after they were created. The painting shown here was commissioned in 1938 for the Coast Guard Station in St. Pete. It was the companion mural (not included in the exhibit) that caused a stir four decades later because it showed a mermaid's breast. Was this something the sailors should be looking at while eating their meals? Would the men become titillated to the point they couldn't execute their jobs? Would the women be offended at this display of the human body? 

Experts were summoned to weigh in on the issue, including conservator C. Theodore Nightwine. As Nightwine aptly pointed out, "These are historic presentations and may only be viewed as offensive by those persons with no understanding of art history. If we are to ban the nude figure in art, we will have to go all the way back to the ancient Greeks." Both murals are still on view in City Hall today.

Another of Hill's works was even more controversial. "Picknicking at Pass-A-Grill" -- a portion of which is shown here -- hung for more than two decades in a prominent location in St. Pete's City Hall. During that time, the local branch of SNCC (the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee) made multiple requests that the artwork be removed on the basis that its representation of African-Americans was stereotypic and demeaning. These requests went unheeded. 

In 1966, a small group of men took the matter into their own hands, storming City Hall and tearing the painting down. The individual who physically removed the mural was arrested and went to jail for two years. That seems a bit extreme, but I guess the actions did constitute destruction of government property. And, well, racism. The wall was left empty for decades because the City couldn't decide on replacement artwork. Today a plaque can be found on the wall that explains the controversy. To see the offending work in its entirety, click here. 

"Jubilation" by Rose Bilal (1994)

Fast forward to 1994 and some less controversial artwork. That was the year St. Pete commissioned its first of seven murals for its Business Retention Target Area. The idea was that the artwork would both draw customers to the businesses in the area and create a more attractive environment for employees. One of those murals -- the only one no longer in existence -- was "Jubilation" by Rose Bilal. At least the work is being seen by visitors to the exhibit. I like it. 

This relatively small mural initiative paved the way for the St. Pete SHINE Festival. In 2012, artists Tes One, the Vitale Brothers and Chris "Palehorse" Parks created a large scale mural entitled "State Lines." Other artists quickly joined the movement, and murals began popping up on buildings up and down the 600 block of Central Avenue. Clearly a chord had been struck. 

In 2015, the artistic trio organized the first SHINE Festival. The goal of the Festival is to "transform [the] city into a vibrant, living canvas that reflects the soul of [the] community." More than 150 murals have been created since the inception of the Festival. That's a lot of walls! For more info on SHINE, click here. 

I'll leave you with a poster featuring Mr. Sun, a figure you're likely to come across if you spend time in St. Pete. Chad Mize created the poster, but he didn't create the character. Credit for that goes to Jack Swenningsen, who developed Mr. Sun back in the 1940s when he was working for a St. Pete advertising company. Mr. Sun's smiling face was seen on everything from tv ads to license plates to billboards. 

The image was never copyrighted (oops!), so Mize was free to use it for his own artwork. He has done that in a big way. In addition to murals and other artwork around town, Mr. Sun now graces the city's buses. It seems fitting given the bus service's name - SunRunner. For more on Mize and Mr. Sun, click here. Be on the lookout for the character the next time you're in St. Pete. 

With that, I'll say once again what a treat it was to visit the St. Pete Museum of History. I don't know how often their exhibits change, but I'll definitely return. For more info on the Museum, click here. Let me know if you check it out! 

 

Schrader's Little Coopertown at the St. Pete Museum of History

Oscar took on docent duties for this one.

It wasn't so long ago that I thought baseball was the most boring of sports. But then the pandemic came, and with it my 90 year old father. What to do cooped up during the long summer months except watch baseball? And so my love of the game began. (It helped that the Tampa Bay Rays made it to the World Series that season.)

A recent getaway to St. Pete -- for a run of all things -- included a visit to the St. Pete Museum of History. While the rest of the exhibits were interesting enough, it was Schrader's Little Cooperstown that made the stop worthwhile. There is so much info packed into this small space that you could spend an afternoon there. Of course there were places to go and people to see, so we didn't. But I foresee another visit in my future. 

The exhibit highlights players who made baseball history. I have an affection for Babe Ruth given the connection between his career and the musical "No, No, Nanette." Ruth played for the Red Sox until 1920 when he was traded to the Yankees to raise capital ($100,000!) to finance Sox owner Harry Frazee's investment in the farce "My Lady Friends." The show was adapted into "No, No, Nanette" and then the movie "Tea for Two" in which Doris Day played Nanette. As they say, it had legs. To see a clip, click here. But I digress. 

Ruth of course was a power hitter of the highest degree. He led the League in home runs twelve seasons, with 1927 being his best year. He hit a whopping 60 balls out of the park that season, resulting in his being given the nickname "The Sultan of Swat." This record was not broken until 1961. Wow. His contributions to the Yankees also led to Yankee Stadium, new at the time, often being referred to as "the house that Ruth built." It's quite an homage. 

No exhibit about baseball would be complete without some attention being given to Jackie Robinson, the first Black player in the Major League. He was 28 years old when he first took the field for the Los Angeles Dodgers on April 15, 1947. While I suspect that sounds young to people reading this post, it is old for an MLB rookie. (As an aside, the oldest rookie outside of the Negro Leagues was 35 year old Jim "the Rookie" Morris, who played -- wait for it -- for the Rays back in 1999.) 

Robinson's stats are quite impressive. In his first season he led the National League in stolen bases, hit twelve home runs and was selected as the first ever Rookie of the Year. But that was just the beginning. In his sophomore season, Robinson batted .342 (which is really, really good) and led the National League in stolen bases. He was named National League MVP for that season.

In 1997, Robinsons jersey number -- 42 -- was retired. Except, that is, for the annual Jackie Robinson Day celebration when every player, coach, manager and umpire across the League wears #42. I love it. 

Speaking of love, the exhibit also boasts a baseball signed by Marilyn Monroe to Joe DiMaggio when the couple was dating. It reads "to the greatest baseball player." You might wonder how the couple came to meet given that Marilyn was not a fan of the game. DiMaggio initiated the meeting after he saw a picture of Monroe taken at the White Sox training camp. (With her high heels on, I don't think she was going to make it around the bases, but I suspect DiMaggio had another type of scoring on his mind.) 

Their marriage lasted a mere nine months, reportedly due to DiMaggio's inability to live with the constant media attention that surrounded Marilyn. Still, DiMaggio showed up for Monroe when there was a crisis, whether it was her hospitalization for a nervous breakdown or an emergency gall bladder removal. For two decades after her death, he had fresh roses delivered to her grave twice a week. I'm not sure what to make of that, or the fact that he stopped after 20 years. Enough is enough? And with that, I'll end this post. 

For more on the St. Pete Museum of History, click here. Happy exploring! 

Rock Climbing 101

Geared up and (sort of) ready to go 

You're not alone if you're surprised to learn that I recently went on an outing at a rock climbing facility. It was a blast! But let me back up a little. 

You may have heard me wax eloquent about The Bay. It is a gem in our community. The public park hosts everything from fitness classes and dance lessons to concerts and movies. It was designed to be "one park for all" and achieves its mission daily. But I digress -- sort of. I mention The Bay because it was a friend from an exercise class there who suggested a rock climbing outing at Hexrock Climbing. Nothing ventured...

We arrived at different times so we were oriented by different staff members. Our guy was kind of a "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" sort. "Here's how you put on your gear. Here's how you clip in. Have fun." Um, okay. I was sort of jealous that other people did a practice fall onto the bouncy mat just in case they took a tumble. I'm happy to say that I still don't have that experience. Now on to the climbing. 

Hexrock offers more than 14,000 square feet of climbing surface, with walls that range from 15' to 35' in height. While there are other climbing options, newbies generally stick to the top rope approach, which means you are anchored to a rope at the top of the wall. It's the most straightforward and "easiest" style of climbing, but it was plenty challenging for me. I am not kidding when I say my triceps started squawking the first moment I began pulling myself up. Seriously? 

Almost to the summit! 

Shockingly, the others in our group had a somewhat easier time than I did. Perhaps I should consider adding bootcamp to my workout routine. The mere thought of it makes me want to get a massage and then take a nap. But I digress. 

The difficulty of the climbs is marked so you know what you're about to tackle. The rating isn't based on how high you can climb but on the relative security of the foot and handholds. You can see that the wall I'm climbing here has different options. I found moving up the purple "boulders" sufficiently challenging without stressing me out. I'm confident I would have gotten the chance to test out how cushy the mats were had I tried the green "pebbles." 

Teri also tackled lower walls that you climbed without the benefit of a harness. You know, like in the movie "Free Solo." It might not have been exactly the same experience, but I still give her a lot of credit. She had arrived well before I did, and I could barely lift my arms by the time she was not only climbing this wall but still smiling. Go, girl!   

Climbing was a breeze for Teri

I don't have much more to say about the outing per se, but it did make me wonder how indoor climbing became a thing. Originally, indoor climbing facilities were a means to an end, with the end being a way to stay in shape off season for real rock climbing. The holds were made from rocks or wood to replicate a real climbing experience. As an aside, practice climbers in Los Angeles did things a bit differently. Instead of going to an indoor facility, they glued handholds onto the bottom of highway underpasses and climbed there. There's nothing like the sound of traffic overhead to help you focus. 

It wasn't until the mid-'80s that French climber Francois Savigny realized that you could make the holds out of plastic, put a bolt in the middle of them and move them around on a wall. With that, a sport became a recreational activity. Today more than 700 indoor climbing facilities can be found across the country with a collective market value in excess of $3.5 billion. That's a lot of rocks. But back to our outing. 

After a couple of hours of climbing and chatting, my shoulders ached and I was dreaming of hot tub jets loosening them up. (A hot shower had to suffice.) Although I haven't discovered a new passion, I would definitely go back sometime. New experiences keep us young, right, despite what my body might say about it. With that, it's time to retire to my couch and watch some soccer.