The line outside Doe Library for the opening night of Fernando Botero’s Abu Ghraib exhibit curved alongside a wall and the grass of Memorial Glade. It was chilly, but the hour-wait was worth it (and I had arrived “early.”) I was in the antechamber of the library, waiting for my group to be called into the viewing room. A flurry of people snowballed through the doors: first, a security guard, followed by a very familiar-looking old, white man. It was the chancellor. Then, loud, excited voices entered before those who owned them.

“Please, step aside. Make way.”

A police officer ushered through, then stopped. “Uh oh, I seemed to have lost my guy.”

An unassuming, gray-topped man came into view. He was shorter than I had imagined. He looked fatigued yet calm. It was Botero. As he passed, I had the distinct feeling that this was greatness brushing by me. I kicked myself for being so cliche, but I couldn’t help it. (more…)