Attending an art opening need not be as traumatic as open-heart surgery if a few simple rules are applied. First, if your name is Ernie, stop reading now. There is an international regulation clearly stating that no one named Ernie will be allowed into art openings. Walk in confidently, as though you have just flown in from Brussels and are a close friend of the artist. Sign the book before viewing the work, including scrawling in the “comments” section words like “voracious!” “declamatory!” “prognosticative!” “layered, extremely layered!” Don’t forget the exclamation points. Peruse in deliberative manner, sometimes putting hand on chin, nodding to yourself with a slight smile as though you and only you get it. Don’t make eye contact with anyone. The less eye contact, the more people will think you’re a critic. Periodically check the sheet listing titles and prices. Otherwise, gracefully lean forward considering the work to check the price listed beneath. Do not, under any circumstances, let out a howl or squawk or sob when you see $2,500 for a wall sculpture consisting of a Converse sneaker strung up on a piece of tree bark. Take deep breaths and slide away. The food table can be tricky. The idea is to consume as much free food as possible without anyone noticing. This is harder than you might think because there are always gallery owners, friends or interns subtly watching consumption. Begin by grabbing a piece of celery or a baby carrot in the first five minutes. Limit cookies to three, dip to two crackers, glasses of wine to two, and anything with icing to just one second helping. Cheese you can always stuff in your pocket along with pepperoni. Just don’t stab yourself with those silly toothpicks. And if the bean dip is homemade, compliment whoever concocted it even if it tastes like mammoth droppings. The idea is to ingratiate yourself to everyone without actually buying anything. Now here is where it gets really tricky – when you actually have to comment on the work. Sometimes you have no choice – the artist or gallery owner comes up and introduces himself and you must have something ready. Some of my most effective responses are: “The calibration of colors reminds me of Antigua at dawn;” “Structurally, I felt it needs more of what the Germans refer to as FIERFUNK;” “The embryo imager within a war zone of shapes created a tension for me I haven’t experienced since Zareksky’s Loam exhibit in San Francisco five years ago;” “I stared at that one and simply felt release of all my issues, my frictions, my frustrations. I’d snatch it in a minute if it didn’t clash with my drapes.” No matter how much something appeals to you, leave your checkbook home. The excitement and flavor of an opening propels the weak into foolish bravado. Be polite, announce you have another engagement, but will return when it is quieter to discuss certain pieces. Give whomever a phony business card, then scurry to the exit, turn with a flourish and shake your head in awe at the whole mass of creativity before you. Then burst into the fresh air, keep breathing deep until your senses return, reach into your pocket, grab a cheese or pepperoni chunk and gobble it down, quickly making sure no lint stuck to it. Group shows are different in that you must keep track of what you say to each artist so you don’t repeat yourself. If you’re challenged at any point, don’t make a scene – leave in a huff, dignity intact. – Joe Del Priore