The summer I was ten, my mother decided to bringus to the world of art. My brother and I were notvery excited when we realized what my mothermeant. What she meant was not that we could takedrawing classes or painting classes but that wewould have to spend one afternoon a week with herat the Fine Arts Museum. Before each visit to themuseum, she made us read about artists andpainting styles(风格). It was almost as bad as beingin school. Who wants to spend the summer thinking about artists when you could be with yourfriends at the swimming pool?
First we had to read about ancient Egyptians(古埃及人) and their strange way of painting facesand then go to look at them at the museum. My 12-year-old brother thought this was sofunny, but I was not interested. Later we had to learn about artists in the Middle Ages whopainted people wearing strange long clothing. We had to look at pictures of fat babies withwings and curly (鬈曲的) hair and with no clothes on flying around the edges of paintings. Icertainly couldn’t see what was so great about art.
On our last visit to the museum, something happened when I saw a painting by a woman calledMary. In it, a woman was reading to a child. The colors were soft and gentle, and you could tellby the mother’ s expression how happy she was just to be with the child. I couldn’t stoplooking at this painting ! I wanted to see every painting Mary had ever made! It was really worthlooking at so many paintings to find a painter who could interest me so much.
【題組】69. What was the writer’ s experience in the museum before the last visit?
(A). She came to feel her mother’ s love.
(B). She liked many paintings.
(C). She hardly enjoyed herself.
(D). She could understand the pictures of fat babies.
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