The mass of  people who gathered Wednesday at San Francisco’s glorious Grace Cathedral, for the Requiem Eucharist for John Buchanan, were given a small print of one of the Venetian masterworks currently on view in the flesh at the Legion of Honor — canvas is flesh, you bet your sweet tuckas it is; and oil is blood, of a sort. Does a tube not bleed if it is pricked?  The Very Reverend Dr. Jane Shaw presiding recalled Buchanan and his talent for provoking thought and wonder about art, rather than lecturing or dictating or pontificating about art (or running on, as I do). She suggested, for example, that he would have or did ask whether the dark area (not pictured above; the image above is a detail; the crop was done on the De Young website — sister institution to the Legion – they were both under Buchanan’s tutelage) was a reference to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. I was just telling a very learned and experienced and committed new friend about the concept — the cave concept — so that part resonated with me. Or maybe my new friend was just acting like she didn’t know about the cave, so as to let me elaborate?

I recall meeting Legion of Honor curator Lynn Federle Orr last summer at Andrea Fisher Gallery in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Lynn lives in Palo Alto, just a few blocks from my crib. I saw the big write-up in the Pink but have not seen the show. Now I will most def see the show and think about Buchanan and the work – plus they recommend Tintorettos “Suzanne” — the one that mixes nudity and the Bible —  book of Daniel.

I never met John Buchanan but have gotten to know, on behalf of my parents and their Paul E. and Barbara H. Weiss Pueblo Pottery collection, several of Buchanan’s team. My mom used to tell a story about John so graciously and charmingly trying to serve her seconds of the family-style meal they shared at the De Young the day they broke bread together and sealed their deal.

I don’t really speak Episcopalian so some of the finer points were lost on me. I substituted “Lord” for “Christ” and only loud enough to encourage my row, not drown them out. I am saving my first Episcopalian blessing for another event — Lord willing, but made note of what the readers and leaders demonstrated to be the international sign for “I would like a blessing but will skip the communion bread and wine part”. (Meanwhile, it was only natural to briefly flash to my coursework at Foothill College on Steinbeck’s “Tortilla Flat” and the Holy Grail symbol and theme therein, right?).

Meanwhile the vice president of the United States (the VPOTUS?) was across the way at the Mark Hopkins (or did I almost call it the Mark Hopter?) and men in blue were all over, but not enough to scare me and our companion from sneaking into the otherwise closed or restricted Venetian Room and Tonga Room. I asked our companion if she knew many Tongans.

I wore what I feared was a perhaps too gay tie but it was bought for me by my girlfriend TAD from the De Young gift shop — it is supposed to be a Amish design with pinks, purples and blues – at least eight colors, I see, now that I look at it — but Julian Cox the curator gave me his blessings AND the bell hop at the Fairmont complimented me and got almost as big an earful on JEB2 as you my dearly beloved and perhaps also mourning readers.

The four of us went to the Fairmont and ate blue cheese hamburgers and toasted to life, “To Life.”

The Three Philosophers by Giorgio da Castelfranco, called Giorgione, ca. 1509. Oil on canvas. Gemaldegalerie of the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna but on view at SF Fine Arts Museums Palace of Legion of Honor in San Francisco through February.